


A Patient Man

by QuoteIntangible



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Forced Prostitution, Gangs, Language, M/M, Mysterious Jensen Ackles, Prostitute Jared Padalecki, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, Violence against teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteIntangible/pseuds/QuoteIntangible
Summary: History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.AN: I started writing this story way back in 2012, and it's been posted on Livejournal since then under the same author name I use here. Now in 2020, in honor of Supernatural's 15th and final season, I want to give this story another go. I hope to finally finish this story, because I have thought about it a lot over the last 8 years and I've always regretted never finishing. I have updated the story a bit from the original, as in, I have changed some of the characters to be more relevant to today's year and/or to my new interests. I may also rewrite or update a few of the scenes, but the story will remain mostly unchanged. I will not be changing the Livejournal version, however, so if you want to read the original non-updated version, you may do so there.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Vic Fuentes/Kellin Quinn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. The Boy With the Haunted Eyes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen, or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine. Think of it as these wonderful actors acting out my script. Also, I am not making any money from this.  
 ****

**AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. I do not approve using some of the language they use in real life, nor do I approve of their actions. This is fiction, people. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18. If you don't know who Vic Fuentes or Kellin Quinn are, they are the lead singers of Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens respectively. 

***

**CHAPTER ONE: THE BOY WITH THE HAUNTED EYES**

They met for the first time under the bridge at the corner of 5th and Watson.  
  
It was a rundown neighborhood on the edge of downtown. The shittiest part of a shitty city: dirty, disgusting, like toilet paper used on a fat, sweaty ass. Graffiti staked claim to every wall, every nook and cranny, of every decrepit building and nobody gave a fuck. Windows were bordered up, glass and garbage littered the streets, and though people milled about at all times of the day, more cheer could be found at a funeral. This sullied and tattered area was a black hole in a city long ago neglected and forsaken by a corrupt government.  
  
This was Jared’s little dark corner of the sinister world, where he spent every miserable night of his life under the deserted bridge. Night after night he trolled under this area waiting for the next dirty, perverted John who got his rocks off having sex with underage boys. Vic and Kellin, two runaway teens in a neighborhood full of them, shared the corner with him, subjected to the same unknown fate. They held an uneasy friendship, but the only real thing keeping them tied together was a vicious fear of their cruel pimp.  
  
It wasn’t like they had any place else to go, though. No caring family, no friends, and a system that had let them down one too many times to be trusted. Vic and Kellin, as sad as it was to admit, were the closet thing Jared had to a family.  
  
Huddled in a Stanford sweater he stole from a thrift store, Jared shivered in the late night rain on a chilly fall night. One too many days coming home to find his mother high on meth and her drug dealer trying to stick his hands down Jared’s pants ‘for payment’ sent Jared to seek asylum on the streets. Too bad no one ever told him the streets were worse than caring for an invalid mother and servicing one old cranky pervert. But the day he left home, Jared had hope, he had faith that things would get better. He naïvely believed that one day he would find his own way.  
  
Yeah, he found his own way all right. Right into the hands of a pimp.  
  
This wretched night, with the cold seeping through the holes in his sweater and water soaking through his weathered pants, for the first time Jared thought maybe it was a good day to die. Jared was a tough kid; you had to be when you were practically raised on the streets. He once broke a kid’s nose for calling his Mother a whore, and Jared didn't even like his mother that much. But what was the point of fighting if you just kept getting kicked in the balls? Jared could fight dirty too, but maybe struggling wasn’t worth it anymore. This world had done nothing for him and he had nothing to give in return. Say the wrong thing to an angry John, cut a little too deep into the tender veins of his wrist and BAM! It was all over.  
  
No one would even notice he was gone, and within days another lost, broken soul would replace him on this corner. It just all seemed so pointless.  
  
He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched forward trying to retain as much body heat as possible. Tonight couldn’t be more miserable.

And then something happened that would change the entire course of his life.   
  
A teen passed him by under the dark lonely bridge. He seemed so unlike the usual Johns, drug-addicted souls and those who sold them drugs, and other homeless bodies, runaway teens, and various vagrants that wandered these streets, that Jared could not help but stare.   
  
Green eyes, cold and calculating, stared straight back: unwavering, assessing, so dead and yet so alive. They were the brightest eyes that Jared had even seen, and yet they were haunted by a deep, unsettling pain. They screamed _back off_ and _help me_ all in the same breath. Their eyes connected. A spark flickered and ignited a fiery passion for life Jared thought was beaten out of him a long time ago.  
  
And then it was gone, green eyes sliding away from his.  
  
He watched the teen, who couldn’t be much older than Jared, swagger down the streets with confident steps. He caught the barest hint of jean clad bowed legs and a worn leather jacket as the boy walked away. Then Jared blinked, and he was gone, as if he had come straight from the depths of Jared’s imagination.  
  
“You are so lucky you aren’t dead!” Kellin, one of the other two 5th and Watson whores, blurted out and waved his hands frantically startling Jared from his thoughts. “Do you have any idea who that is?”  
  
Jared pathetically shook his head ‘no,’ still entranced by those cold green eyes and already pining for more.  
  
“That’s Jensen,” Vic, the last of their trio, calmly said as if that explained everything.  
  
“So I should be dead why?” Jared shrugged his shoulders and passed this off as more tall tales murmured through the unreliable street grapevine. Word traveled quickly amongst prostitutes in a counterproductive attempt to help keep each other safe. It was like playing phone with your friends, though; the message was never the same at either end of the chain. Before long there were dozens of different stories out there about the same thing and somehow that John who gets a little too rough with his whores is suddenly a serial killer who will cut up your body into little pieces and leave it in the bay.  
  
“You’re new to the streets, kid, so I’m going to fill you in,” Vic began and Jared rolled his eyes. True, he had only been a sex worker for two months, but he’d been on the streets practically his whole life. “Jensen’s a very dangerous man and a crazy son of a bitch. Rumor is he became leader of the Ghost Brigade after he gutted the former gang leader and choked the man to death on his own intestines. I hear he still has the head.”  
  
“I heard he burned the eyes out of a man that looked at him wrong with a hot poker,” Kellin said and threw an arm around Jared’s shoulder. “Also, I think he might eat babies for breakfast.”  
  
“He’s barely, what, 17? You guys are making this up just to fuck with me, aren’t you?”  
  
“It’s true,” Vic said. Jared resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. That’s the exact same thing Vic said about the three-legged baby that survived in a dumpster for a week and now travels with a circus. “I heard he got that scar on his face when he massacred his whole family.”  
  
“Scar, what scar?” Jared searched his memory of his brief encounter with the feared gang leader for a scar. All he could remember, though, were his eyes.  
  
“The one under his right eye,” Kellin replied. He looked at Jared like the younger boy was stupid as he traced his finger over the aforementioned area on his face.  
  
“Oh, man,” Vic moaned. He poked Jared in the shoulder and stared him dead in the eyes. “Do not fall for Jensen, Jay. He’s a ruthless killer and would rather cut your hand off than shake it. Stay away from him. You do _not_ want to get involved with that.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared teasingly replied. “I looked at him pretty funny tonight and I still have my eyes.”  
  
“Cuz you’re still new to the streets. You only get one chance, kid.” Kellin said gave patted Jared's head.  
  
“Will you guys stop calling me that,” he laughed and pushed Kellin away. “I’m barely a year younger than the two of you.”  
  
“That is one full year of wisdom, my friend.”  
  
“You are so full of shit, Kellin.”  
  
A sleek black Mercedes stuttered to a stop across the street from the boys. “You’re up, Jay,” Vic announced. “It’s one of your regulars.”  
  
Jared knew that car. It belonged to the Mayor, another person who did not belong on these streets and the last person Jared had looked at funny. Unlike with Jensen, though, Jared ended up paying a steep price for that look. In public, the Mayor had the perfect family consisting of one bleached blonde bimbo for a wife and three perfect little girls with ribbons and dimples and white summer dresses. In private, the Mayor was a sick, perverted man that liked to spend every Wednesday night at 11:30pm fucking Jared.  
  
Every fucking person who lived on the streets knew the Mayor was a corrupt son of a bitch. He raved to the masses about cleaning up the streets, driving out the homeless and eradicating all prostitution. He preached about the sins of being gay and how they were corrupting _your_ children. He denounced evolution and contraceptives and promoted the loss of rights and the destruction of the environment. Typical Republican. Bored housewives and ignorant assholes hung onto every one of his shallow words. While secretly he fucked underage prostitutes, accepted bribes and made good people suddenly disappear. If this town was afraid of anyone, it wasn’t the boy with the haunted eyes, it was the Mayor. Fucking hypocritical bastard.  
  
If he had a choice, Jared would have rather bit the man’s dick off than suck it. A very rational fear of his pimp, who spent Jared’s first week on the streets beating the shit out of him with a bamboo cane, kept the asshole’s dick intact and satisfied.  
  
That night the Mayor pounded his ass into the dirty bed at the local whore motel. Jared forced himself to at least partially pretend to enjoy it and moaned encouragingly at all the right times.  
  
The Mayor threw some money at him, spewing shit from his mouth about how worthless Jared was, like it was _his_ fault the man was a pervert.  
  
But when he limped back to his corner, he remembered those haunted green eyes and hope rekindled in his heart. There was something there. He was meant to know Jensen. Jared just knew it.  
  
***  
  
A whole week went by before Jared saw the boy with the haunted eyes again. He didn’t believe Vic and Kellin’s bullshit that Jensen was the epitome of evil, but he’d been on the streets long enough to know you just couldn’t trust anyone.  
  
He found himself wanting to make an exception.  
  
Wednesday rolled around and just before the Mayor made his regular booty call, Jensen strode down the street in the same worn leather jacket and the same aura of confidence surrounding him. Jared did notice the scar then, but it was a mere blemish on his handsome face. A square jaw, short cropped brown hair and plush lips perfectly complemented his beautiful, but intense, green eyes. Jared could not look away.  
  
Their eyes met again. The same spark ignited and roared to life inside him. He smiled shyly at Jensen, a trick he picked up from Kellin for picking up nervous Johns, and gave a small wave.  
  
Jensen did not respond, just kept walking down the darkened road. But Jared thought he saw a hint of a glint in those haunted eyes and the ghost of a smile on his rugged face.  
  
That was enough for Jared.  
  
***  
  
Thursdays were the roughest day of the week to survive. The Mayor usually left him sore, but this time he left him sore and bleeding. The Mayor wasn’t big on the whole prep thing, said it was only for “faggots.” And wasn’t that just fucking ironic. He had taken several customers after the Mayor and thankfully one only wanted a blowjob and one a hand job in the alley. When the third John forced his thick meaty erection into Jared’s abused hole, though, he’d nearly started crying it hurt so bad. He choked out a few appreciative moans and let a pile of filth erupt from his mouth with ‘more’ and ‘harder’ and ‘yeah, that’s it, fuck me’ when all he really wanted to say was _‘please, stop.’_  
  
Money was always tight on Thursdays, or in his case usually non-existent. Customers were infrequent and irregular in the beginning part of the week and after he paid his pimp his fee, there usually wasn’t anything left for Jared. If he was lucky Jeff Morgan and his wife, Samantha, were handing out sandwiches, toiletries and condoms at the corner of 4th and Market.  
  
Jared wasn’t always lucky. Today was one of those days.  
  
And just his luck it rained that night. A cold bitter chill brought buckets of freezing rain and what Jared thought might have been hail at 2am in the morning.  
  
He actually did cry this time when a customer held him down and fucked him into the mattress, aggravating fresh wounds. At least the guy felt bad after and paid him extra.  
  
He forced himself not to limp back to his little corner when the man was done. _“Limping makes you look weak and vulnerable,”_ Vic had told him the first day on the job. _“Attracts the real sickos. Could cost you your life.”_  
  
By morning, Jared was cold, wet, miserable and the only thing sloshing around in his stomach was water and cum. But he’d made enough money to keep his damn pimp happy and buy something to eat finally.  
  
After a long miserable weekend that was much the same as his Thursday, Sunday was a fucking blessing. His favorite regular occupied the majority of his night every Sunday. He wasn’t sure what to expect when the young Reverend first approached him, turned out he had no need to worry. The man was an idealist, wanted to save the people on the streets.  
  
Jared thought he was just as hypocritical as the rest, and full of just as much shit, but at least this one didn’t have a fake wife and kids.  
  
The man was always gentle and sweet during their ‘love making’ as the Reverend called it, and he generally seemed to care about Jared; even provided him with a home cooked meal every time.  
  
Jared only liked him because he paid well, and because he fed him. This time the man even bought him flowers like Jared was some blushing virgin that he needed to woo and not some 16-year-old prostitute he hired to shove his dick into.  
  
Jared didn’t need anyone to ‘care’ for him. The whole thing was ridiculous and the man way too attached, but Jared couldn’t afford to lose him as a customer and generally needed the gentle reprieve to his ass every week. So he put on his best ‘blushing virgin’ act every week and let the Revered coddle him.  
  
It was disgusting.  
  
He threw the flowers in the trash the second he left the house and then thought better of it. He grabbed a handful, stashed them under his rotten mattress in his shitty room and returned to his corner for the rest of the night.  
  
***  
  
Wednesday night Jared could not contain his excitement. Like a regular teenager with a crush, he had butterflies in his stomach and his heart pounded in his chest when he finally saw Jensen round the corner in those few beautiful moments before the Mayor showed up. Jared vibrated with excessive energy. Vic glared at him and gave him a subtle shake of his head, like maybe he knew what Jared was planning and was desperately trying to tell him not to.  
  
“He’ll fucking kill you,” Kellin hissed softly in his ear. Jared just shrugged. It was a very strong possibility that anyone on the street could kill him at any second, Vic and Kellin included. But Jared had a gut feeling about this, and though his gut had definitely been wrong in the past, like the time it told him to run away from home, this time he was willing to trust it.  
  
There was a story beneath those haunted eyes, a reason for this supposed mental instability Vic and Kellin spoke of. The more he saw Jensen, the more he wanted to know.  
  
Jensen’s steps this time were a little less confident, his eyes a little meaner, face a little grimmer and shoulders a little tenser.  
  
“Hey!” Jared boldly announced and jogged across the street to the boy with the haunted eyes, throwing all caution and self-preservation to the wind.  
  
Up close, his face was even more stunning and the intense gaze in his green eyes even more alluring. Except for a slight intrigue, there was no emotion otherwise written on his beautiful face. He stopped for Jared, though, and that was enough to propel him forward, whether to his doom or his success.  
  
“I’m Jared,” he smiled brightly and didn’t bother offering his hand, knowing Jensen wouldn’t take it. Jensen regarded him suspiciously but otherwise kept his expression completely blank. Jared wasn’t the kind of person to let that bother him.  
  
“This is going to sound crazy,” Jared beamed excitedly, “but I really just wanted to say hi. Oh! And to give you these,” he said and pulled a couple of withered flowers from his hoodie pocket. “Sorry they’re a little wilted.” He smiled brightly again and held out the flowers to the other teen.  
  
Jensen’s eyes narrowed dangerously and a flicker of what might have been anger clouded his handsome features. Jared knew that look. Strangers didn’t give you something out of the goodness of their heart. Usually they wanted something in return, a hard lesson learned for most street kids. Jared hoped he could prove to Jensen he was different.  
  
“I just thought you could use them,” he said in a casual voice and shrugged indifferently. “Make your day a little brighter.” To his utter surprise, but great delight, after a moment of hesitation Jensen reached out and gently took the flowers from his hand. It took all of Jared’s willpower not to start dancing for joy in the street.  
  
Jensen stared down at the flowers with the same blank expression. Jared’s confidence faltered a little then and his nervousness finally made its presence known with a sudden urge to puke, but he was determined to not let his big mouth ruin the damn moment he was trying to have.  
  
“I’ll see you around, okay? Next Wednesday,” he half joked, half pleaded and half commanded. And yes, Jared was aware that was three halves.  
  
He turned to walk back to his corner when a soft voice stopped him. “It’s Jensen,” the boy with the haunted eyes said.  
  
Once more, Jared had to force himself not to do the victory dance. Instead he slowly turned back to face the supposed hardened criminal. “It’s nice to meet you, Jensen,” he said with as much sincerity as he felt.  
  
Jared returned to his corner a very happy man and once more watched Jensen, in his worn leather jacket, slowly walk away and disappear into the night.  
  
“You are fucking crazy!” Vic yelled the minute Jensen was out of sight. He punched Jared in the arm. “And here I thought I was crazy.”  
  
“I can’t believe he didn’t kill you,” Kellin said, his jaw still on the floor where he had dropped it.  
  
“When he reached out to take the flowers I thought he was reaching for that knife in his pocket so he could stab you…in the face.”  
  
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kellin,” Jared said and rolled his eyes.  
  
“You don’t get it, Jay,” Vic replied, voice dead serious. “You don’t mess with Jensen. You don’t touch him, you don’t speak to him, and you don’t go near him. No one does.”  
  
“Apparently I do,” Jared softly said, a small smile tugging at his lips. If Jensen felt at least a tenth of the electricity between them that Jared felt, then it was so much more than the average person could ever feel.  
  
“The Mayor is here.” Kellin poked a finger into his gut.  
  
Jared’s smile fell. He closed his eyes and remembered Jensen’s intense green eyes and his soft voice and hoped it was enough to get him through this night.


	2. It's Your Lucky Day, Kid

**Warnings (Chapter Specific)** : coarse language, semi-graphic description of violence and a blowjob, mention of Kellin/OMC non-con

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen, or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine. Think of it as these wonderful actors acting out my script. Also, I am not making any money from this.

 **AN** : This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER TWO: IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY, KID**

Today felt lucky to Jared. Jensen actually spoke to him and the event was highlighted in bright fucking yellow as the single greatest thing that ever happened to Jared in his short, miserable life. The Mayor was not so rough last night either, and while he usually finished quick, last night seemed exceptionally short. To top it all off, when he approached the corner of 4th and Market, Jeff was there in his old, rusted pickup handing out sandwiches and other necessities to the poor and disadvantaged.  
  
Desperation led Jared to seek out Jeff and Sam’s assistance on Thursdays. They generally seemed like really good people and they were always so nice. They were the only honest people Jared knew and the only people Jared knew who really seemed like they wanted to help others and receive nothing in return.  
  
Jared didn’t necessarily trust them, though. Rule number three when living on the streets: Don’t trust anyone, especially outsiders.  
  
But he figured Jeff and Samantha had been around for a long time. Somewhere along the line they probably picked up a lot of useful information. Besides Jeff wasn’t likely to fuck with him, like Vic and Kellin were. And sometimes it was just nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a prostitute, or a customer.  
  
“I got turkey and tuna today, kid. Which one you want?” Jeff asked and held out two sandwiches for Jared to choose from.  
  
“What no ham?” Jared joked as he cautiously accepted a turkey sandwich.  
  
Jeff sighed dejectedly. He looked older than his years in that moment. Worry lines etched his forehead and his frown lines looked like they were weighing his lips down. His eyes were sad, concealing worry, not for himself, but for the kids he helped out every day. Jared almost felt bad for him. “City cut our funding again. Part of the Mayor’s plan to ‘clean up the streets’ I guess.”  
  
“Doubtful,” Jared shrugged. “Who’s he gonna fuck if there are no underage prostitutes?” he added when Jeff looked at him skeptically.  
  
“There have been a few ill rumors that the Mayor is planning something big.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Don’t know. Just heard a few stray whispers here and there that something ugly is coming.”  
  
This whole town was already ugly; nothing but a black stain on the map. In Jared’s opinion, things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Jeff and Samantha were not the only ones to have their funding cut. The local clinic was suffering, struggling to survive and barely maintaining their facilities on their limited budget. There were only a few shelters and they were so overrun with people, that it wasn’t worth it to stay there. There was literally no place else for Jared to go, except stuck in his life as a prostitute.  
  
“What do you know about Jensen?” Jared abruptly changed the subject not wanting to dwell on his pathetic life or the Mayor any more than he had. Dark thoughts and experiences with the Mayor consumed enough of his life already.  
  
“Cold and intelligent, a both deadly and fearsome combination. There is not a single person on the streets, criminal or not, who would dare to defy him,” Jeff said and then regarded Jared with narrowed eyes. “Why?”  
  
“Just curious.” Jared shrugged and tried to pass if off like it was no big deal.  
  
“Uh huh,” Jeff huffed and continued starring. “I can’t tell you much kid,” Jeff relented and shrugged his shoulders, turning to hand a teenage girl a sandwich and some condoms. “Nobody really knows where he came from or who he is. He just showed up one day and seized control of the Ghost Brigade with his crew.”  
  
“His crew?”  
  
“Yeah, there are about 4 or 5 other people with him. There is no one who can tell you what really happened. But word on the street is about six months ago he killed Harris’s family and took over his entire operation in a single day through cruelty and brute force alone. The kid’s got balls,” Jeff said and leveled Jared with another stare, his voice dropping, low and serious. “What I do know for sure is that boy is certifiably insane. Everybody else in his crew too.”  
  
“Oh,” Jared said and stared down at his half eaten sandwich. “How’d he get that scar on his face?”  
  
“I heard at least ten different stories on how he acquired that particular scar. The most ridiculous being a chain saw, and the most realistic is that a bullet grazed his face. Personally, I think I believe the chainsaw theory the most. You gonna tell me why you’re really so interested?”  
  
“I met him.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And he seems like a very interesting person.”  
  
Jeff scoffed at Jared’s apparently ridiculous answer. “Look, kid. He’s untouchable. The gangs fear him and not even the cops will touch him with a ten foot pole. And whatever is coming, whatever the Mayor has planned, that boy is smack dab in the middle of it. Best to stay away from him if you wanna live.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Jared lied. It wasn’t actually the news he was hoping for. He finished his sandwich and walked back to his room.  
  
Room was really stretching it, though. His pimp owned a house and together the pimp lived there with all his whores like some sort of fucked up Grimm’s fairy tale. He shared a room with Vic and Kellin and he didn’t know how many other hookers lived in the house, but knew there were at least four others all under the age of 19. Jared didn’t know what had happened to the previous hookers after they turned 19.  
  
He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out either.  
  
The house had to be a cesspool of diseases. It wasn’t cluttered seeing as underage prostitutes, mostly consisting of runaways, didn’t actually have many possessions. It wasn’t exactly clean, though, either and always, _always_ smelled like stale sex, blood and mold. It wasn’t just a roof over his head and a place to sleep and shower during the day, it was a prison. The four leaf clover tattooed to his right hip, his pimp’s mark, was a vicious reminder of his confinement here.  
  
A hard shove to his shoulders suddenly stopped his forward progress towards his room.  
  
“Look, it’s the princess,” Jake spoke up and pushed Jared into the wall. Jake was the oldest boy in the house, and sort of the right hand man to their pimp. Jake had been the one that lured a poor, unwitting Jared to this house in the first place when he was unable to find shelter on the streets.  
  
Jared _hated_ Jake.  
  
It would have been okay if Jake had been just another prostitute like the rest of them, but the guy was a serious asshole to everyone in the house. He mocked, beat up, and sometimes even forced the younger boys to have sex with him. During his first horrendous week at the whore house, Jake held Jared down and forced himself on him while their pimp watched. It was one of the worst moments of Jared’s life. It wasn’t the only time it had happened either and he wasn’t the only kid in the house it had happened to.  
  
There was nothing any of them could do about it.  
  
“Leave me alone,” Jared demanded and pushed the other boy back.  
  
The older boy pinned him to the wall with a forearm to his throat and forced a knee between his legs.  
  
“What’s so special about you?” Jake hissed into his face and pressed his arm harder into Jared’s throat until he couldn’t breathe.  
  
He gasped, trying to force an answer past his constricted throat, but nothing came out except for a choked whisper.  
  
“Let him go,” Vic suddenly demanded somewhere to Jared’s right.  
  
Surprisingly, Jake did and Jared dropped to his knees like a sack of bricks. Oxygen forced its way into his lungs and he coughed harshly, his throat burning and lungs heaving.  
  
“What is it with you?” Jake angrily repeated.  
  
“I-I’m not,” Jared tried to explain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Of course you don’t,” the other boy scoffed and stormed out of the room leaving Jared on his knees.  
  
“What the fuck was that about?” Jared asked as Vic helped him to his feet.  
  
“I don’t know. Jake just likes being a dick. You know that.”  
  
Jared knew that only too well.  
  
***  
  
The Reverend stopped by earlier than usual with another beautiful bouquet of flowers. _Jensen would really like those flowers,_ he thought. They complemented his eyes.  
  
That night, tangled in the sheets of the Reverend’s own bed, the man made love to Jared like he was a delicate flower; a slow gentle thrust of his hips, skin sliding against skin, face to face just like the man always wanted. His hard erection nudged against his prostrate over and over, a warm calloused hand wrapped around his dick, teasing, tugging and gliding along his length until Jared was a withering mess and coming in the Reverend’s righteous hands with a choked off gasp.  
  
Jared hated that part the most, hated that the man always made him enjoy it. He hated it even more than the forced cuddling the man always insisted upon afterward until he was ready for a second round.  
  
“What do you know about Jensen?” he casually asked in the aftermath to the man spooned behind him with one hand drawing lazy patterns around Jared’s navel.  
  
He could not see the older man’s face, but Jared felt his muscles tense. “Jensen? _The_ Jensen?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jared shrugged.  
  
“That boy is a lost soul that can never be found,” was his dark response, a tone invading his voice that Jared had never heard before. “His soul shall walk this Earth forever, as neither Heaven nor Hell shall seek its acceptance.”  
  
Okay, so not quite the answer Jared was looking for. Jared hoped to learn more about the boy with the haunted eyes, more about his past, where he came from, who he was. But the only thing everyone agreed on when it came to Jensen was that he was insane, literally, like talking to people who weren’t there and going into uncontrollable rages, unstable.  
  
Everyone said Jensen was a ruthless murderer. Everyone said he was a cruel and heartless son of a bitch, and that he ruled the streets with an iron fist. Everyone thought Jensen was bat shit crazy. Jared thought maybe Jensen was just as lost and damaged and jaded as the rest of them and was waiting for someone to give him a second chance.  
  
Jared could be that someone.  
  
Some people really were just born evil and some people were made that way, forced to become a twisted mess of a real person. It was the excuse Jared used for the evil lurking in his own heart. This world made Jared this way and the world would one day be faced with the consequences. The same had to be true for Jensen. His heart refused to believe anything else.  
  
The Reverend’s hand started to move lower, disrupting his thoughts. Not for the first time Jared really, really wished he could tell the man ‘no.’  
  
He returned to his corner after the Reverend was finally sated and stood alone until the early hours of the morning. Vic and Kellin never came back to the bridge that night.  
  
Jared wondered if maybe they were dead.  
  
***  
  
Vic walked to their corner alone the next night.  
  
Shoulders sagged, eyes red rimmed with telltale signs of tear tracks on his face, lips pursed and trembling, Vic was the very picture of defeat. Kellin and Vic never returned to the house that day, and while Jared desperately hoped the two had run off together, he knew the chances were very slim.  
  
“Is Kellin…?” Jared began, but could not finish. Their pimp, when he felt like it, protected them from customers who wouldn’t pay or got violent, but it wasn’t a given thing. Every hooker was well aware that their next client just might be the last face they would ever see. It was a terrible thought and an even more horrible fate. Rule number two for living on the streets, though: Don’t get attached to anyone. Jared still found himself wishing on any star in the sky that it had not happened to Kellin.  
  
“No,” Vic heavily sighed and stared intently at his scuffling shoes. “He’s at the clinic.”  
  
Jared released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “What happened?”  
  
“Some guy left him for dead. I-I found him in the alley,” the older boy said, voice breaking on the harsh words, his eyes still fixated on the ground.  
  
Jared heard all the things Vic wasn’t saying. Kellin had been beaten, raped, robbed and then left to bleed out in the alley.  
  
“He gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Vic huffed bitterly. Kellin was a 17-year-old prostitute runaway that fled an abusive, alcoholic father. He hadn’t been okay since long before last night. None of them had. But at least, this time, he was going to make it to fight another day. “He uh, he wanted to come to work today, even though he could barely walk. The doctor said no and I had to beg him to stay at the clinic,” Vic said, voice painfully on the edge of breaking down.  
  
Kellin was in some serious shit. Come home one night, or in their case don’t come home one night, without money fine, whatever, you got a warning. ‘Accidents’ happened and pimps could be reasonable, too. Come home two nights in a row without any wages and punishment would be doled out. Vic and Kellin thought they were sneaky, but they forgot Jared shared a room with them. He could hear them fooling around during the day when they thought he was sleeping. They’d broken rule number two and put both their lives in danger. Nobody broke the rules and survived.  
  
 _Fuck the rules,_ Jared thought. They weren’t really likely to survive anyways, might as well go down with someone you love.  
  
If only the end was not so near.  
  
“You can’t help him if you’re hurt,” Jared tried to reason with the desperate teen. They both knew in Vic’s mind there were only two options, pay Kellin’s half and take the blame from their pimp or take on more risky clients that paid very well, but only because they were into some very kinky shit. Neither option boded well for the two young lovebirds.  
  
“I can’t let our pimp punish Kellin either.”  
  
There was no use offering platitudes. Nothing had gone right in either of their lives since they were born. Nothing ever just worked out for them. Lady luck abandoned them a long time ago.  
  
“If I can help, I will,” Jared said instead, offering what little left over cash he might have in the morning.  
  
“Thanks Jay,” Vic finally raised his eyes to look at the younger boy, and offered a tired smile. “It means a lot to us.”  
  
Uncomfortable, Jared just shrugged and looked away. “Whatever.”  
  
“That’s Jimmy D. I’ve got to go,” Vic said as a sleek, red Charger pulled to a stop at their corner.  
  
“Vic,” Jared warned, but the other teen was already jogging across the street. Jimmy D had been after Vic for months, but Vic always said no. The man was notoriously known for beating prostitutes with a belt until their back was a bloody mess and then fucking them with their own blood as lube. It was rumored he’d even accidentally killed a couple of whores. Only the real kinky hookers, or the real desperate ones, dared to let Jimmy D pick them up despite the fact that he always paid his hookers very well.  
  
“I’ll see you later,” Vic nervously said as he slid into the back of Jimmy D’s car.  
  
It was a very real possibility that Jared would never see Vic again.  
  
Two hours, one hand job and one blow job later, Jared began to get very scared. Vic had not returned and the longer he was gone, the more Jared began to worry that Jimmy D had killed him. Being alone for so long at their dark corner was starting to freak Jared out, too. His own shadow spooked him and any movement in the corner of his eye had his skin crawling and his nerves on edge.  
  
A drunken fool with the mark of the Street Warrior Gang proudly tattooed to his neck stumbled down the street towards Jared’s corner. Reading people was a sixth sense to those on the streets and this guy radiated danger like heat from a bonfire. Get too close and it will burn you, or maybe even melt your skin into a puddle of goo. Jared tried to slink into the shadows, invisible, unnoticeable and just maybe the idiot wouldn’t start shit.  
  
Jared was never that lucky.  
  
He was trapped between a hard brick wall and a mountain of pure muscle.  
  
“Where’s Kellin?” the man asked, voice dripping with fake concern. The smell of whiskey and tequila was thick on his rancid breath. He leered at Jared, revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth, and stepped closer, hands on either side of Jared’s head trapping the teen there.  
  
“Out sick,” Jared cautiously replied.  
  
“That’s too bad,” he sneered in Jared’s face, “that he survived.”  
  
Realization was worse than a punch in the gut, or the Mayor’s cock in his ass. This was the fucker that beat Kellin up? _Fuck,_ Jared was _so_ screwed.  
  
“Suck it, bitch,” the man demandingly hissed. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I won’t kill you.” Five meaty fingers dug painfully into his shoulder and forced Jared to his knees. He thought briefly of punching the bastard in the crotch and making a run for it, before a knife pressed tightly to his throat immediately ended all thoughts of escape. “Bite down and I will cut your throat open.”  
  
With fumbling, shaking fingers Jared pulled the man’s zipper down. His cock sprang to attention, eager, swollen and impatiently waiting for Jared’s wet hot mouth to satisfy it.  
  
Hesitantly, Jared wrapped his lips around the gang member’s thick erection. A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head forward, burying the cock deep in his throat. He gagged and chocked on the brutal intrusion and valiantly struggled to relax his throat.  
  
“That’s it, take it,” the man growled as he fucked Jared’s mouth. “You like that, you little slut?” he asked when Jared made a pitiful moan in the back of his throat. He gagged again, desperately forcing the contents of his stomach to stay in his stomach as the man’s erection hit the back of his throat. “It’s all you’re good for. Useless fucking whore.” He spat on Jared as he held his head still with the hand in his hair and forcefully thrust his dick into his mouth. His erection nudged the back of his throat again. It took every ounce of will power Jared had not to puke.  
  
“Bet you fucking like my dick in your throat,” he boasted and snapped his hips forward, forcefully burying his cock farther down Jared’s throat. He spit on Jared again and with an obscene moan came into his mouth, holding Jared’s head steady so he was forced to swallow.  
  
He pulled away, his cock making a sickening pop as it left Jared’s sore and cracked lips. What little was in his stomach, violently revolted and burned a blazing trail up his throat and out onto the dirty pavement. He heaved and gagged, spewing bile onto the ground, pressing a hand to his stomach in a desperate attempt to quell the spasms.  
  
“You puked on my shoes, you piece of shit!” the gang member roared and kicked Jared hard in the stomach. The kick knocked the wind out of him, forcing the air from his lungs. For a wild and frantic moment, Jared could not breathe as the man’s foot collided with his stomach again, pain exploding red hot where the boot landed.  
  
He finally gasped for breath, lungs heaving, throat raw and burning as the man picked him up by the lapels and slammed his back into the wall. “I’ll teach you a lesson, whore,” he spat. A fist smashed into his eye and pain exploded in his skull in a violent flash of light. His vision turned grey and hazy for a second, muddling together like a blur of colors and clearing just in time to see the same fist crash into his jaw. A ring tore into his skin and his head snapped to the side, his momentum forcing Jared to his hands and knees once more. Blood filled his mouth and he spit it out on the ground, intentionally splattering blood on the bastard’s shoes.  
  
A kick to his chest accompanied a sharp cracking sound in his ribs and forced Jared onto his back on the ground. He curled up into a ball to protect himself when a boot landed on his back. A soft gasp was the only sound he could manage as the boot hit his back again and again.  
  
The boot stopped, and then an insistent foot pushed and forced Jared onto his back. The gang member placed his boot crushingly on Jared’s chest, forcing the air from his lungs again.  
  
“My face is going to be the last thing you ever see, whore,” he laughed and kicked Jared in his unprotected ribs again.  
  
Pain exploded in his side and Jared swore he could see it burst before his eyes. He struggled for air. His vision dulled again, black at the edges that faded into a swirl of colors in the center that he could not make focus. Reality tilted and wavered around his head as another kick forced Jared to curl up in a futile attempt to protect himself once more.  
  
Jared had always known he was going to die young. This was not exactly what he had in mind, though.  
  
“JARED!” he heard a panicked voice yell past the blood rushing in his ears.  
  
The next kick never came. Jared pulled a ragged breath into his protesting lungs and slowly exhaled. It eased the tension in his muscles enough for him to breathe in deeply again, despite how much his ribs protested, and slowly let it go. The pain roared to life and then settled just below the line between tolerable and excruciating. His vision cleared enough for him to see Vic running towards him.  
  
The relief hurt almost as much as the broken rib. Vic was up and about, decidedly not dead, and here to save Jared.  
  
“Jared?” the gang member said and he looked…panicked? “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” the man yelled and punched the wall as hard as he could. “Don’t tell him.” He pulled out his wallet. Every bill he had in his wallet, he pulled out and threw down at Jared. “Don’t tell him,” he said again and took off running like the Devil himself was hot on his heels.  
  
“Fuck, Jay, are you okay?” Vic worriedly asked, falling to his knees next to Jared on the ground. Slowly Jared uncurled and lay flat on his back. His stomach and back protested spectacularly at the small movement and his left eye was well on its way to being swollen shut. He forced himself to breathe deeply again and slowly exhale, the air wheezing its way out of his lungs.  
  
“I think I’ll be okay,” he finally replied as he let Vic help him sit up. “What the fuck just happened?” He turned scared eyes toward the other hooker.  
  
“I have no fucking clue.”  
  
It was then he finally realized just how much money the gang member threw at him. It was more than Jared made in a week. He collected it and counted it, and then counted it again just to be sure it really was that much. “Holy shit,” he said. “I think I’m gonna be able to help you and Kellin after all.”  
  
He didn’t miss the grateful look in Vic’s eyes, nor how his eyes filled with tears of gratitude and relief. They both knew Jared didn’t have to help either of them. He pretended not to notice Vic’s face and looked away uncomfortably.  
  
“Thank you,” his voice was so full of hope and sincerity that Jared actually thought about punching the guy just to make it go away. In an unexpected burst of relief, Vic hugged Jared tightly.  
  
Not used to physical affection, but secretly liking it too much to shove Vic off, Jared just shrugged and then immediately regretted it when the pain in his ribs flared to life.  
  
“I should be thanking you,” Jared said instead. “You saved my life.”  
  
“Come on.” Vic half supported and half dragged him to his feet, but the movement was gentle, his hands kind and caring as they helped Jared up. It was so much more than Jared was used to and he forced himself not to punch the guy for caring too much. “Let’s get you to the clinic.”  
  
Now that he was on his feet and out of the alley, Jared can see the blood running down the back of Vic’s shirt and sighed. They made quite the injured pair. “I think you need the clinic too,” he pointed out and ran a finger down Vic’s back to emphasize his point.  
  
Vic jerked away from the light touch. “Yeah,” was all he choked out in a strained tone.  
  
“We can see how Kellin is doing!” Jared cheerfully added. Vic gave him a small smile then and Jared smiled back. It said everything the two could not say in words. Vic saved Jared’s life that night and Jared saved Kellin, the one person Vic cared more for than even his own safety.   
  
And they were never going to talk about this shit, or mention tonight’s events, ever again.


	3. My Gift To You

**Warnings (Chapter Specific)** : coarse language, semi-graphic description of rough underage sex

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen, or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine. Think of it as these wonderful actors acting out my script. Also, I am not making any money from this.

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER THREE: MY GIFT TO YOU**

Between the money Vic made from Jimmy D and the money Jared ‘made’ from the gang member in the alley, they had enough money for all three of them to take Tuesday off with money for Jared still left over.  
  
Jared wished like hell he could take Wednesday off, but knew if he missed his appointment with the Mayor, his pimp would beat the shit out of him with that cane he loved so much. Jared wasn’t sure he could handle another beating so soon after the last one.  
  
Plus, he’d get to see Jensen on Wednesdays, and that made everything worth it.  
  
They were beat to hell by the time they settled into their corner. Kellin ditched the sling stabilizing the arm that had been stabbed, but his face and neck looked like it went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. There were stitches under and above his left eye and another twenty in his arm. He was hunched over broken ribs and he sort of titled to the right, like the leaning Tower of Pisa, as he stood. Vic wasn’t any better off, except he stood ramrod straight attempting to keep his shirt from touching his back. Only one of his cuts ended up needing stitches, but that didn’t mean the others didn’t hurt like hell and Jared didn’t miss the way he winced every time he moved abruptly. Jared considered himself lucky, a few stitches to his face where the ring had hit him, two broken ribs, a bruised kidney and quite a few very painful bruises. Annoyingly, he could barely see out of his bruised left eye still. It could have been worse, though, it could have been a lot worse.  
  
Like clockwork, in the most amazing minutes of Jared’s week, Jensen rounded the corner and headed to their little spot of the world in the moments before the Mayor arrived. He clutched the flowers in his pocket, hoping he could squeeze a few more words out of the stoic leader.  
  
Their eyes met. The spark flickered, fluttered, and then miserably died without ever coming to life. Before he knew it Jensen was storming across the street towards him and he looked _pissed_. Terrified, Jared searched his memories, wondering if he had done something to anger Jensen, but coming up short.  
  
Maybe Jensen didn’t need a reason. Maybe he was just as crazy as everyone warned him.  
  
Jensen stopped right in front of him, so near their toes almost touched. This close up, Jared could see the fire, the emotion, burning in those haunted green eyes. He forced himself not to flinch when Jensen raised his right hand and he let his eyes slip closed. A gentle touch to his face encouraged Jared to open his eyes again. Jensen’s hand cradled his jaw, and his thumb gently brushed over the cut on his face. The touch was feather light, but Jared still cringed when Jensen’s thumb reached the most tender spot of the bruise on his jaw. Jensen’s eyes hardened until they were almost unrecognizable. Those were no longer the haunted eyes of the lost boy he’d first seen on the street corner four week ago; they were the violent, soulless eyes the Reverend warned him about. They were the eyes of a killer.  
  
“What happened?” Jensen asked so softly it was almost lost in the ambient street noise. Despite how softly the words were spoken, Jared could still hear the imminent threat lingering in them.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Jared tried to tell him and shrugged it off. Only the shrug ignited a fury of pain in his ribs and Jared couldn’t stop the cringe in response. Jensen’s hands were suddenly tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he wasn’t so scared of Jensen right now, Jared would be turned on. As it was, he was still fighting his arousal from having the other boy so close and actually _touching_ him. Seconds later, the shirt was being tugged back down, covering his bruised torso.  
  
“He got beat up by a John,” Kellin filled in the blanks and if Jensen’s eyes hadn’t been staring straight into his, holding Jared captive with their gaze, he would have turned to glare at the older boy.  
  
“Who did this to you?” Jensen hissed through clenched teeth, the look on his face murderous. This was not a man to be trifled with. Jared could now understand a little why everyone was so afraid of him.  
  
“I-I don’t know,” Jared replied and shot Jensen a pleading look. He didn’t understand why the other teen was so angry.  
  
“Some guy from the Street Warrior Gang,” Vic bitterly said. After Jared told Vic the guy who beat him up in the alley was the same man who hurt Kellin, the older teen regretted not having done more than scare the guy away. Jared did shot a glare at his friend then. He did not understand why Vic was being so cooperative with Jensen right now. Wasn’t he always the one telling him to stay away?  
  
Jensen’s eyes tore away from him and he stormed off. “But…I got you flowers,” he said softly to the retreating form.  
  
Jensen didn’t even turn around.  
  
Jared was not even sure he heard him.  
  
Vic rested a heavy hand on his shoulder and Kellin wrapped an arm around him. “He forgot his flowers,” Jared pathetically said, staring down at the flowers now in his hand like someone just kicked his damn puppy.  
  
The Mayor pulled up in his Mercedes. As he climbed into the back seat, he left the forgotten flowers on the grimy road.  
  
Begrudgingly, he followed the Mayor into their usual run-down hotel room. He immediately shed his clothes and lied face down on the mattress, just like he did every week, waiting for the Mayor to spit on his cock a little and then fuck him. Get in, get out; it never changed.  
  
 _The Mayor could have been so handsome_ , Jared thought. Most people would find those icy green eyes and thick dark brown hair, with a touch of grey, attractive. His eyes crinkled when he grinned, frown lines noticeable but not prominent and his face was long, but his jaw strong in comparison. He was tall and lean - a runner’s body for sure - with long muscular legs, his age just beginning to show with a little excess around the middle. He had a crooked nose, though, and pinched lips pressed tightly into a thin line. He face was frozen in a look of contempt and bitter hatred. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the soul of a demon. If Jared believed in such things as God and the Devil, he would have believed the man to be possessed by Lucifer himself.  
  
“Turn around,” the Mayor purred after Jared settled himself on the bed, “I want to see those bruises on your face when I fuck you.”  
  
The new position made Jared nervous and wary, but he did as he was told. The Mayor forced his knees to his chest and it hurt. He took shallow breaths, but the pressure on his chest was too much to be at all comfortable and he found himself struggling to breathe, and struggling not to fight back. Jared forced his muscles to relax as the Mayor predictably rubbed spit over his condom and then slowly nudged his erection into Jared’s tight hole.  
  
“Someone finally teach you a lesson, boy?” the Mayor asked and bottomed out in Jared’s ass. He knew the older man was not expecting an answer, so he kept his mouth shut, lips pressed tight in a grimace, as the Mayor pulled out a little and shallowly thrust back in, a path of pure agony stabbing his nerves as skin dragged across skin. “You deserved it, you worthless whore,” he spat and thrust again, harder this time. The Mayor gasped in pleasure and fell forward onto his hands, his face so close to Jared’s now he could smell the mint on his breath. The Mayor moaned low and deep in his throat as he snapped his hips forward, setting a brutal pace that burned and ached and set his flesh on fire from the inside. Sex with the Mayor always felt like he was being fucked with a jagged and splintered wooden dildo with no lube.  
  
The next thrust sent a lance of pain racing up his spine and Jared could not hold back his wince. He clenched his teeth shut to keep his gasps from escaping. “You like that?” he asked and snapped his hips forward again and again with the clear intent of making them hurt. The man’s breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps as he erratically pounded into him. “I asked if you liked that, boy?” The Mayor hissed when he did not respond and thrust hard and deep into Jared’s resisting body. It felt a little like sandpaper rubbing against skin.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Jared reluctantly ground out past clenched teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as the man continued to forcefully thrust into him, a sharp stabbing pain accompanying each drag of hard skin against tender flesh.  
  
“God punishes the wicked,” the Mayor preached, “and your soul belongs in the deepest pits of Hell.” Sweat dripped from the Mayor’s skin, his pleasured gasps and the slapping of skin against skin filled the room. He could hear yelling in the next room and he focused on that as he buried the bruised side of his face into the pillow, anything to get his brain to wander away from this room and this moment. The rough slide of skin against skin, the burning pain and the heat of his flesh prevented him from total escape. An unholy moan erupted past the Mayor’s wicked lips as his cock twitched and he came with one final brutal shove.  
  
Jared immediately sprang off the bed as soon as the Man was done, eager to be rid of this foul man’s presence and thankful the Mayor did not draw blood. But the Mayor grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he said to a surprised Jared. “You just look so pretty tonight.”  
  
When Jared finally returned to his corner, Vic and Kellin were gone. He used his time alone to let a few tears escape past his tightly controlled wall. The walk back had been brutal and he could feel cum sliding down his thighs. Even just standing there was painful and tiny daggers of pain shot up his spine with every tiny movement he made.  
  
The Mayor had been even rougher the second time and by the third time, Jared was pathetically bawling like a baby. It only turned the Mayor on more to see his pain so openly.  
  
He saw Kellin returning and quickly scrubbed at his eyes and pulled the hood of his sweater over his face.  
  
“You okay, Jared?” Kellin asked with honest concern.  
  
“Yeah,” Jared easily lied and silently cursed at how weak and hoarse his voice sounded. He stared at the ground and wrapped himself up in a hug, refusing to even look in the general direction of the other boy.  
  
“Okay.” Jared sighed in relief, grateful he was not pushing the issue.  
  
***  
  
He spent all day Thursday moping, despite Vic and Kellin’s best efforts to cheer him up.  
  
One look at his bloody underwear, and Vic and Kellin manhandled him into the bathroom. They stood outside the closed bathroom door like guard dogs and made sure he properly took care of his injury. He heard them conspiring in hushed tones about how they would field all the rougher clients and penetrative sex that night and leave all the blow jobs and hand jobs to Jared.  
  
The three of them had gone from uneasy friends to being extremely protective of each other since the incident on Monday. Any other day, Jared would have appreciated the concern. Any other day Jared would have reveled in the fact that someone actually cared about him, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to feel anything today.  
  
Jensen walked away.  
  
Jared doesn’t know why.  
  
Jared had known he was gay for a while, since Karl Larison kissed him in the eighth grade and he ended up with a raging hard on. But Jared was _not_ a fucking sap. He does not pine or obsess over his men. Street kids don’t get attached, and the number one rule of living on the streets was that you always look out for yourself first.  
  
But Jared was so sure that Jensen was different. There was something about him that called to Jared, spoke to a part of him that he’d buried a long time ago. Apparently, Jensen did not feel the same.  
  
Jared was _not_ depressed about it, because he wasn’t a fucking pussy. He was lying on his bed, sighing like a pre-teen, because he felt like it…not because of Jensen.  
  
“We got you a sandwich,” Vic said and tossed the food onto his stomach.  
  
“I’m not hungry,” Jared grumbled and turned away from them.  
  
“Eat the sandwich, you pissy brat,” Vic demanded and lay down on his own bed with Kellin curled up next to him.  
  
“Fine, fucker.” He tore into the sandwich, balled up the saran wrap, threw it at Vic’s head, and then took a giant bite out his food. “Happy?”  
  
“Insanely,” he quipped in that dry tone that annoyed the shit out of Jared.  
  
“We got you this too!” Kellin cheerfully added. He was not aware that something had been thrown at him until an apple hit him in his sore chest.  
  
“Ow,” he complained and it sounded suspiciously like a whine. “I can’t see out of my fucking left eye, you dick.”  
  
“Quit your bitchin and eat the damn apple,” Vic ordered.  
  
Jared reluctantly did so, but only because he still felt a little hungry and not because Vic told him to.  
  
He let Vic and Kellin think he wasn’t on to their little plan that night. As soon as they were both busy with clients, though, he let some big biker with a leather vest, a tattoo of a lion on his ugly mug and hand the size of his ass, roughly fuck him against the wall in the alley just to feel the pain.  
  
 _“Overcompensating,”_ he had goaded the fat, sweaty biker on. The man proceeded to show him, just how much he wasn’t.  
  
He refused to mope at all on Friday, except in reality he kind of did. Damn Jensen and his intense green eyes and his kissable lips and his strong, silent, but fragile and damaged personality that did things to Jared’s dick that he could not control. _Fuck._ He wanted to hold Jensen in his arms until his eyes were no longer haunted, tear apart every single person who put that look in his eyes, and then kiss the life back into him.  
  
But no, Jensen had to go and walk away and leave Jared behind. And Jared is _not_ moping because of it.  
  
Vic yelled at him for picking up the biker last night and made him promise not to do anything stupid tonight. Yeah, like that was going to fucking happen. But he told Vic _‘fine, whatever,’_ anyways.  
  
“Jared, I really think we need to talk about this,” Vic said for the hundredth time in the last two days as they walked to their corner. “I think you’re taking this all wrong.”  
  
“There is nothing to talk about, dude, I’m fine.”  
  
“Jared…” Kellin began, but Jared just walked faster.  
  
Pathetic, pitiful, pained groaning instantly caught his attention when he passed the alley next to their corner. Cautiously they followed the noise into the alley unsure if it was a scared, wounded animal or just some unlucky person who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  
  
They crouched down next to an injured man propped up against the wall. His face was barely recognizable. Both his eyes were swollen shut, cheeks puffy, lips torn and bleeding, and finger shaped bruises were etched into his jaw and throat. One arm hung uselessly by his side, swollen from his fingertips straight up to his shoulder. On the other hand all five fingers were broken. Blood dribbled from his lips and was splattered across his shirt. He was shoe-less and jacket-less in the cool autumn night. The man was still breathing, but the air rattled as it wheezed its way into his lungs and squeezed its way out. Jared recognized the tattoo on his neck and the ring on his finger, the same ring that had cut through the skin on his face, on the same hand that had held Jared’s head in place while he fucked his mouth.  
  
“Holy fucking shit!” Kellin exclaimed. Jared couldn’t blame him. He wanted to see the man pay too for what he had done to him, and Kellin had been hurt a whole lot worse than he had.  
  
“Is this the dick that hurt both of you?” Vic asked in a tone that was dark, angry and scary.  
  
“Y-yeah,” Kellin said softly, scared and insecure. Vic’s eyes hardened, then he drew back his fist and punched the guy across his badly battered face. His head snapped to the side, and blood splattered from his mouth. A muffled, hoarse scream forced its way painfully out of his mouth.  
  
“Nice shot.”  
  
“Thanks, Jay.”  
  
“Hey, look,” Kellin said and pointed to an envelope pinned to the man’s shirt. Jared’s name was inscribed across the envelope in neat cursive letters. “I think it’s for you.”  
  
“No shit.” His heart leapt into his throat and pounded excitedly. With trembling fingers, he reached for the blood splattered envelope. Carefully, he opened the seal and pulled out a sheet of paper. A flower fell to the ground as he gently unfolded it, and but one thing was written across the paper.  
  
 _Thought you could use this.  
  
-Jensen_  
  
Jared wanted to cry. Tenderly he picked up the delicate rose from the ground. A huge grin broke out on his face. He took a deep breath, trying to contain his excitement, and let it go with a huff of laughter. All this time, Jared thought Jensen was mad at him, but the boy with the haunted eyes was just mad that Jared was hurt. He stood up, the flower clutched tightly in his grasp, and twirled around right into a hard, unresisting body.  
  
“Fuck,” he hissed and jerked backwards and stumbled over the injured gang banger’s feet. Two strong hands reached out and steadied him. Jared shivered at the touch, a thrill of pleasure running through him at Jensen’s hesitant touch. He had not heard the older teen coming, and from the startled looks on Vic and Kellin’s face, they didn’t know he was there either.  
  
Jared melted. If his life were an anime there would have been cartoon hearts pulsing in his eyes.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Jared gently teased and offered the silent teen a patented Padalecki smile. Jensen’s lips almost twitched into a smile before smoothing out into a blank expression. It was subtle, but Jared caught the barest hint of nervousness on Jensen’s face, and his body was tense, like he was ready to fight or flee at any moment.  
  
“Is this a present for me?” he gently prodded indicating the beat up gang member and the flower. His tone was light and easy, smile soft and casual, so he did not scare Jensen off.  
  
Jensen nodded mutely, and this time when the older boy looked straight at him, Jared knew he was not imagining how unsure and unsettled and how shy the feared gang leader looked.  
  
Jensen _liked_ him, and again it took every ounce of will power Jared had not to starting bouncing on his toes for joy. He wanted Jensen to continue to like him, not to think that he was crazy.  
  
“Best gift anyone’s ever given me.” Jared learned at a young age that no one ever did anything for you, unless they expected something in return. Jared had been given a few small gifts here and there in his life, but no one had ever exacted revenge on his half before. No one ever cared about him enough to do so. It was heartbreakingly sweet, and extremely impressive, that Jensen had hunted down a gang member and beat the shit out of him just for Jared. He wanted to kiss away the blush on Jensen’s cheeks or at the very least hug him, but with how skittish Jensen was, he knew touching him was probably a very bad idea. “Thank you,” he settled for instead.  
  
Jensen did smile back this time. It was but a brief, lopsided tug of his lips, but it was the most beautiful thing Jared had seen in years.  
  
“I think this means I need to take you out on a date,” Jared boldly announced.  
  
“A date?” Jensen’s soft voice queried, confused and oh so adorable.  
  
“Yeah, a date,” Jared nodded, “where I take you someplace special and we get to know each other better.”  
  
“Okay,” Jensen agreed.  
  
“Really!?” Jared excitedly exclaimed and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I mean, yeah, okay,” he conveyed in a much calmer tone. “Is tomorrow just before sunrise too early for you?” Jensen shook his head no. “Okay then. Meet me here tomorrow morning about 30 minutes before sunrise.”  
  
Jensen agreed with a minute nod of his head and then took off down the alley.  
  
“See you then.” Jensen turned to look at him briefly, his blank expression once more set firmly on his face. But Jared knew better now. Jared knew beneath those dead eyes and expressionless mask, was the hint of a spark that flickered for Jared. He watched him walk away. As soon as he was out of sight, Jared danced victoriously on the spot.  
  
Kellin’s face was frozen in a look of disbelief.  
  
Vic kept opening his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shut his trap, only to open his mouth again to have nothing come out.  
  
“What?” Jared finally snapped.  
  
“I…I don’t even…I can’t believe,” Vic inarticulately stuttered.  
  
“You just asked Jensen out,” Kellin gaped.  
  
“I know,” Jared proudly said.  
  
“And he said yes.”  
  
“That I also know.” Jared leered at the other two, not even bothering to try and hide the huge, smug smile on his face. “He _likes_ me.”  
  
It was surprisingly Vic who responded with, “I guess you’re right.”  
  
A loud groan reminded them of the presence of the injured gang member. “You’re just jealous,” Jared said to the man and squatted down next to him again, Vic and Kellin following suite. “What do you suppose we do with him? Should we call an ambulance?”  
  
“I say we leave him here to _rot_ ,” Vic’s dark voice responded. “He got what he deserved.”  
  
“I can live with that,” Kellin said and Jared just shrugged.  
  
“You know, your boyfriend is pretty cool,” Kellin told him as they returned to their corner. “Insane, definitely, but cool.”  
  
Jared could barely hold in his excitement. He had no idea how he’s going to last until morning. Jensen was not technically his boyfriend, but he was not about to correct Kellin, because hopefully by tomorrow, he would be.  
  
“I know.”


	4. First Time For Everything

**Warnings (Chapter Specific):** coarse language, brief assumptions of underage sex

  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen, or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine. Think of it as these wonderful actors acting out my script. Also, I am not making any money from this.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER FOUR: FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING**

It was the longest night of Jared’s life. With only a few customers interspersed here and there and nothing else to keep his mind off the impending date, the hours dragged on. He tried not to count down every second until sunrise, but it was too hard not to. He barely had enough money for food let alone a watch and there was no clock in the vicinity. So Jared glared at the moon instead, willing it to travel faster across the night sky.  
  
“Would you stop it?” Vic yelled as Jared paced to the alley entrance and then back to their corner for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. “You’re driving me crazy!”  
  
“Dude,” Kellin complained as he stumbled out of the alley, wiping cum and spit off his face with the back of his hand. “I kept seeing you pacing out the corner of my eye while I was trying to give that guy a blowjob. You almost made me gag.”  
  
“Sorry,” Jared shrugged, not apologetic in the least and paced to the alley entrance and back again.  
  
“Jay?”  
  
He nodded his head somewhat distractedly in Kellin’s direction. “Yeah?”  
  
“Your lady parts are showing.”  
  
“Oh, fuck you, asshole. Like you have any room to talk,” he joked and stopped pacing long enough to punch Kellin in the arm. “Wasn’t it you with Vic’s cock up your ass yesterday, moaning ‘Oh, Vic, harder’?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all eager cock sluts.”  
  
“Yes, we are,” Kellin leered at Vic. He grabbed the other teen by his shirt and dragged him into a wet, sloppy kiss.  
  
“So what are you going to wear on your date tonight?” Vic teased as he let Kellin sidle up next to him. He threw an arm over the other boy’s shoulders and pulled him close. Ever since Kellin had been beaten and brutally raped, Vic had been increasingly reluctant to let Kellin leave his side and disappear to where he could not protect him. Their bruises and cuts, though fading, were still a stark and painful reminder of what they all had been through.  
  
“Well considering I’m basically wearing everything I own… This! Don’t I look fantastic?” He twirled for the other two teens, showing off his ragged clothing and struck a ridiculous pose.  
  
Vic looked him over as if he was seriously considering the question. “Well, Jensen seems to like your ugly mug, so I guess it doesn’t matter what you wear.”  
  
“Gee thanks.”  
  
Vic did not reply. The sudden widening of his eyes gave Jared a fraction of a second warning before a knife was pressed into the base of his spine.  
  
“You Jared?” a low gravelly voice asked.  
  
“Who’s asking?” A shove to his back propelled Jared forward. He stumbled into the wall and turned to face his attacker.  
  
The assailant appeared to be no older than nineteen, with long brown hair pulled loosely into a pony tail. A few dark strands hung in his face framing dark blue eyes that pierced through Jared. He was shorter than Jared, but a tight long sleeve shirt revealed bulging muscles when he flexed. A twisted smile and a maniacal glint to his eyes revealed a whole layer of crazy that Jared was not familiar with, nor did he want to be. Either that or the guy was just fucking with him. Jared didn’t like either option.  
  
“What are you doing on the streets, kid?” Jared really hated when people called him that. A snarky reply was on the tip of his tongue, ready to be unleashed upon this weirdo, because really it was none of this guy’s business why. But then the guy’s hand noticeably tightened around the handle of his blade, muscles flexing threateningly under his dark shirt. Given the wrong answer, Jared had no doubt this guy would gut him like a fish and enjoy every second of it.  
  
“My mother was a drug addict,” he explained with more calm than he felt, “that did nothing but meth and lie in her own squalor _all_ day. And her drug dealer slash boyfriend slash I don’t even know, molested me in payment for my mother’s drugs. My stupid, idealistic self thought the streets would be so much better. I guess I was wrong, huh? But now here I am.” Jared is not sure why he feels compelled to tell this asshole the truth in a long winded rant. It just felt important. It felt right. It felt like that knife was going to end up in his brain if he did not answer the question carefully.  
  
“Okay!” the scary man yelled, seemingly more annoyed and exasperated than mad, though. He stepped in real close, one hand resting on the wall next to Jared’s head. He let his eyes rake up and down across Jared’s body. “You’re kind of pathetic, aren’t you?”  
  
Jared frowned at him. He was not a hundred percent positive, but he was pretty sure now that this guy _was_ just fucking with him. Apparently, being the maybe boyfriend of a feared gang leader put a giant target on your back to all the crazy assholes in the city. Jared totally should have expected that. No, no, he really should have. Didn’t really make a difference, though, because this crazy person and any others this city may harbor were not going to change Jared’s mind about Jensen. “I resent that.” He narrowed his eyes and met the newcomer’s dark blue gaze, which was not nearly as intense as Jensen’s, in almost a challenge.  
  
The guy shrugged a little and pushed off the wall with his hand, finally out of Jared’s personal bubble.  
  
“You gonna kill me?” Jared warily eyed the guy, not sure if he was foe or friend or just insane.  
  
“Not if you don’t make me.” There was no amusement on the man’s face, no flicker of any emotion. Whether or not this man had been fucking with Jared before, was no longer important. What he said now, he meant every word of.  
  
Jared gulped nervously.  
  
Blue eyes narrowed, his face darkened into a snarl, knife pointed threateningly at Jared with a growl poised on his lips. “If anything happens to him, injunction or not, I will break every bone in your body, set your skinny ass on fire, and then hang you by your underwear to a flag pole.” He placed the tip of the knife underneath Jared’s chin and pressed the blade into his skin. He was nothing, but dead serious and eerily calm as he spoke. “Then when you wake up in the hospital, paralyzed from the neck down, my face will be the last thing you ever see as I smother you to death with a pillow.”  
  
The demented man let the gravity of his words sink into Jared’s brain, before slowly he pulled the knife away.  
  
Jared didn’t know how to respond to that. His insane attacker left a whole lot of room for error in his death threat. It didn’t matter anyways, for by the time a response finally came to mind, the mad man was already gone, vanished as quickly as he appeared to god knows where. Probably back to the nut house for all Jared knew.  
  
“Dude, seriously, do you attract every fucked up person in a ten mile radius?”  
  
“It’s a gift,” he casually said, despite how shaken up the encounter had left him. He hid his trembling hands in his sweatshirt pocket. “And where are you two fuckers when all this crazy shit goes down? Oh yeah. Right next to me. Doing nothing!”  
  
“Unlike you, _I_ don’t have a death wish. And if _you_ want to get yourself killed because you fell in love with a gang leader, Juliet, then who am I to try and stop you?”  
  
Jared rolled his eyes, knowing Vic didn’t mean any of it. “Why do I have to be Juliet?” he whined. “Why can’t I be Romeo?”  
  
“Because you have girly hair,” Kellin giggled.  
  
“That’s okay,” Jared shrugged. “I don’t really want to be like that whiny teenager that couldn’t handle losing his girlfriend, who was only 13 by the way, and so killed himself in a pathetic emo display of rampant teenage hormones.”  
  
Vic grinned at him, one eyebrow raised in question. _“Dude.”_  
  
“What? I do know how to read.” He waved his hand dismissively and leaned his back against the brick wall the blue eyed menace had pushed him into. Something about that man’s words bothered him. The overt threat indicated his attacker was a friend of Jensen. But this was Jensen they were talking about, who had more rumors floating around about him than all of the Kardashians and Hiltons combined and surrounded by more mystery than Jack the Ripper. In other words, there was no telling the truth and he just could not be sure. “What do you think that guy meant by injunction?” he asked the question bothering him the most.

Kellin rolled his eyes. Vic rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbed his eyes and then stared at Jared incredulously. “Seriously? You’re an idiot.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Vic began to answer, but Jared completely tuned him out. Standing behind Vic was the most beautiful creature genetics has ever produced.  
  
He smiled brightly. Like a moth to a flame he was drawn towards green eyes that shyly stared at him through long lashes. He floated to Jensen, barely aware of his feet touching the ground, compliantly pulled forward by some invisible connection. “You look beautiful,” Jared remarked. The flickering street light illuminated Jensen's dark features, his hair was mussed like he just rolled out of bed, and the combination was incredibly sexy. He fell deeper for Jensen with every passing moment. “Ready to go?”  
  
Jensen sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and chewed on it, contemplating his answer. For a horrified second, Jared thought the other teen was actually going to turn him down, before hesitantly Jensen nodded. Jared sighed in relief and offered his hand to the teen. Jensen stared at it, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do, and Jared was not surprised when he did not take his hand.  
  
He shrugged it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Most kids on the street came from abusive homes and hated being touched by anyone. He knew Jensen had issues when he asked him out. Hell, Jared had a long list of his own unpleasant issues. He could talk plenty for the both of them and he was ready to wait for whatever Jensen was willing to give him.  
  
No heart was so damaged it could not be reached by the right person. Jared planned to spend as much time as it took chiseling away at the towering wall guarding Jensen and tunneling his way in until the older boy could no longer resist him.  
  
“Come on,” he said and inclined his head east. Jared led the way, Jensen following, his footsteps so light and quiet they were completely lost in the muted sounds of the city.  
  
There was more than foot between them as they walked. Tension was coiled in Jensen’s muscles, and though he valiantly struggled to keep his face neutral, a hint of vulnerability and fear peaked through his careful mask. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jensen’s hand fisting in his pocket, then smoothing out, then twitching into a fist again, presumably curled around a knife. The whole scene reminded him of a stray dog he once came across in an alleyway. The obviously abused and abandoned dog would snarl, snap and lash out at anything that got too close, especially if it was protecting its dinner, but once cornered or outnumber and overwhelmed, it cowered before its enemy and if given the chance, ran away as fast as it could.  
  
This first date was very important. He remembered the blue eyed man’s vague threat: _if anything happens to him..._ That left a whole lot of room to mess up. There would no arguing on interpretation in this case, he knew. If things went sour, no matter whose fault, Jared had not doubt that not only would he never see Jensen again, he _would_ wake up in the hospital with dark blue eyes boring into him and a pillow over his face. Therefore, it was very important Jensen did not feel threatened. If Jensen’s behavior was anything to go on, Jared wasn’t doing so well in that area.  
  
On a whim, he stopped to get them some ice cream on route to their final destination. Everybody loved ice cream and he hoped it would make Jensen more comfortable and ease some of the tension. When asked his favorite ice cream flavor, though, Jensen just shook his head a little and looked away uncomfortably. _Okay, he doesn’t know, I can work with that,_ Jared thought. When asked the last time he had ice cream, Jensen gave a one shoulder shrug. Taking in his downcast eyes and slight blush to his cheeks, Jared got the vague impression that Jensen was almost ashamed. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if ever he had tasted the sweet treat, but he let it go. His intent was not to make Jensen feel bad, and he had a hint that’s exactly what would happen if he continued along this particular vein of inquiry.  
  
He never had ice cream before. So what? It was not a big deal, and yet somehow it seemed so profoundly sad to Jared, like this was a small piece of a very large and complicated puzzle where every piece was a shade of black or grey. Jared was determined to add some color to that puzzle, bright fucking yellow pieces of sunshine, if he had to, to light and cast away the darkness. They could be the border, holding the abyss at bay.  
  
“That’s okay,” Jared smiled reassuringly trying to ease some of the discomfort the situation created. He acquired two chocolate ice cream cones, and then added sprinkles because who doesn’t fucking love sprinkles? If this really was the first ice cream cone the other boy ever had, then Jared was going to make damn sure he enjoyed it and got to have the whole fucking experience while he was at it.  
  
He stepped as close as he could into the other boy’s space without freaking him out. Their eyes connected, gaze locked on one another. There was something different about Jensen’s face, as he accepted the cone, a softening around the hard edges and sharp angles. Jared couldn’t explain it in a million years, even if his life depended on it. All he knew was that this boy standing before him, was not a fearsome, haunted leader, but a human, damaged and possibly insane, but still just human. And he wanted what every decent human wanted: to be loved.  
  
“Thank you,” his soft, dry voice intoned.  
  
Jared beamed in response and his heart beat faster. Though it was only two words, Jensen’s deep, gravelly voice excited Jared like nothing ever had before. “We better go, or we are going to miss it.” Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away. Jensen never asked where they were going, or what they were going to see. If it wasn’t for the knife in Jensen’s pocket, and the hand wrapped around it, Jared would have taken it as a sign of trust.  
  
He kept a steady stream of upbeat dialogue on route to their final destination; not entirely sure what to talk about, but still saying everything that popped into his mind. He had a feeling Jensen wasn’t all that interested in normal teenage boy conversations, like music, movies and cars. Having been a street kid for far too long, Jared’s knowledge on those subjects was limited as well. He talked instead about some of the lighter moments of his childhood. Like the stray cat he decided he was going to take care of when he was seven, and brilliantly named Stray Cat. He brought her home and hid it away in his room, until he realized the creature had infested the entire apartment with lice. In a rare moment of lucidity, his mother made him get rid of it. He talked about his spectacular failings in gym class and the girl who kicked him in the balls because she kissed him and he thought it was gross. Jensen didn’t seem to mind Jared’s ramblings. Though he was as silent and stoic as ever, Jared was pretty sure Jensen was listening intently. Despite the other’s silence, the conversation didn’t seem stilted or awkward. Jared felt strangely comfortable around his reticent companion and briefly he wondered if Jensen felt the same.  
  
When he cast a quick peek at Jensen, he noticed the ice cream was untouched and melting in his hands.  
  
“You gonna eat that?” he asked and instantly regretted it. Jensen’s cheeks flushed and a pained look of what might have been shame adorned his face. Jared made a big show of sloppily licking his own ice cream cone and looked away, picking up his upbeat banter where he left off about the girl who pushed him into a puddle, the same girl who kicked him in the balls. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jensen hesitantly taste his own cone, his eyes downcast and refusing to look at Jared. He tried not to let how much the sight saddened him bleed into his voice. It wasn’t just a thought anymore, Jared _knew_ then there was a troubled tale brewing behind those haunted eyes. Whatever was in his head, it was big, ugly and scary. When finally the answers were forthcoming, Jared knew they would break his heart.  
  
“We’re here. Just in time too! What do you think?”  
  
During his homeless wanderings, between the time Jared ran away from home and the time Jake introduced him to his pimp, Jared had inadvertently found this place. It was at the bay at the very edge of the town. As was most of the city, this area too was abandoned and rundown, long forgotten. A wild garden of lilac bushes, roses, daffodils, and more that Jared could not put a name to, grew behind a rusty, but delicately carved, metal fence. It was a tangled, but beautiful mess that haphazardly flourished in the back of an empty, decrepit bed and breakfast. A few piers stood broken and isolated on the nearly still waters, barely afloat atop the simmering sea. The best part of this place was the clear view of the sun that magnificently rose above the horizon beyond the calm ocean. It was just beginning to crest over the horizon as he led them to the edge of the pier, took off his shoes, and then sat down with his feet dangling in the water. He imagined at one time, this place was full of boats and people, family vacations filled with fun and laughter, but no one came here anymore. No one cared.  
  
It was the perfect, peaceful, non-threatening place to be for their first date. This place always made Jared feel a sense of calm and peace; reminded him exactly why he was still fighting. He hoped this place could do the same for Jensen, ease some of the tension that seeped into Jensen’s shoulders and seemed to settle there permanently like cement and maybe, just maybe bring a smile to his haunted eyes.  
  
“Like it?”  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Jensen agreed and sat crossed legged next to Jared, the pier creaking slightly with his graceful movement.  
  
The birds awoke, chirping cheerfully to the rising sun, even as the sound of crickets and June bugs faded away. They sat in silence as they finished their ice cream and watched the first rays of a new day rise above the horizon.  
  
“My first night on the streets after I ran away from home, I had no idea what the hell I was doing, or where I was going. I just knew I had to get away.” He glanced sideways, aware of Jensen’s eyes on him, knowing he had his undivided attention. “I just kept walking. I was really down, kept asking myself if my mother would even notice I was gone, and if she did, would she even care? No one’s looking for me, so I guess not.” He shrugged his shoulders and tried not to dwell on that particular rejection. Jared knew for a fact no one was looking for him because no one ever filed a missing person report. He was just another kid on the streets that no one cared about and just as easily replaceable. It hurt. Mothers were supposed to care about their kids, mothers were supposed to protect their children. Most days, Jared’s mother hadn’t even known his name.  
  
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Then I stumbled across this place, and it seemed so perfect. And I thought, it couldn’t get any worse, you know?” Of course at the time Jared didn’t know that it could get worse, it could get so much worse. But this place? Every time he came here, every time he watched the sun rise, it still gave him hope.  
  
Jared still had hope.  
  
Jared wasn’t much of a believer in fate, but he was starting to believe he was driven to the streets for a reason. His suffering would not be in vain, something good would come from it. Maybe Jensen was his reason.  
  
“You did the right thing,” Jensen said so softly Jared wasn’t sure he even spoke those words.  
  
The words were a like a soothing balm on a sore, infected wound. For months, since the day he met his pimp, Jared wondered over and over again if he had made the right decision. Life on the streets was not what he expected, and a small part of him, that little boy inside of him that wanted to love his mother the way she would never love him, felt guilty for abandoning her. Jared didn’t know if it was written all over his face, his uncertainty in the decisions he had made, or if Jensen just knew, or had been in a similar situation. He wasn’t even aware they had been the words he wanted to hear until they had been said.  
  
He smiled softly at the older boy, trying to convey his gratitude.  
  
Jensen turned away then, staring straight out into the ocean. He glowed in the rising sun; head titled back, eyes closed, basking in the rise of a new day.  
  
“When was the last time you watched the sun rise?”  
  
Jensen was silent, no response immediate. The palms of both of his hands were flat against the pier behind him, his weight rested against them. His hands were not, Jared blithely noticed, clenched around the handle of his blade.  
  
“It has been many years,” Jensen quietly admitted. Jared jolted in surprise, not having expected an actual answer. “There was a time I did not see the sun at all or the night sky. I forgot what the open air felt like.”  
  
A deep sadness settled over Jensen; a darkness spread over his eyes that were more haunted and yet more beautiful than Jared had ever seen them before. Jensen turned away again and leaned back on both hands, face tilted towards the sun once more. Jared felt the breeze gently blowing across his face, the rays of the sun gently warming his skin, and the touch of the water as it slid over his feet and in between his toes, wet and slimy. They were all reminders that he was still alive. Jared could never imagine not knowing what _this_ felt like.  
  
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”  
  
Truer words were never spoken. From the startled look on Jensen’s face, Jared knew it had been the right thing to say. Bravely, he reached out and covered Jensen’s hand with his own and curled his fingers around Jensen’s. There was a light gentle squeeze to his fingers, taken away as quickly as it was given. He stared at Jensen, reveled in the almost serenity that seemed to calm Jensen’s tempest soul.  
  
Then and there, Jared knew, he would do anything to make that look, that peacefulness, stay with Jensen always.


	5. Smoke in the Clouds

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Mentions of underage sex, coarse language, drug use (marijuana)  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER FIVE: SMOKE IN THE CLOUDS**

It occurred to Jared too late that he had no idea how to contact Jensen.  
  
After watching the sun rise high in the sky and breakfast burritos at Tony Luck’s Food Cart, they parted ways. Briefly he’d pondered a good bye kiss, but a subtle movement forward on Jared’s behalf and a full body flinch from Jensen immediately ended those thoughts. He offered a handshake instead, which Jensen did not take, and then settled for just saying goodbye while stuttering out high hopes of seeing his mystery man again. And then Jensen took off to wherever it was he came from, quickly disappearing into the metaphorical fog.  
  
There was no way of knowing if he would ever come back, nor if he would ever see him again. He had no way of tracking him down; no way to contact him. He supposed he could stop the next Ghost Brigade member he found patrolling the streets, but he had serious doubts any of them knew Jensen, let alone where to find him and it would probably take weeks for a message to trickle up the food chain. If it wasn’t for his full stomach and a warm tingle to his fingers where they had transiently touched, Jared could have believed Jensen didn’t really exist at all.  
  
If he wanted to see Jensen again, his mystery man would have to make the next move.  
  
Jared tried not to let that thought temper his good mood. The date had gone well and he was positive that Jensen would come back. Well, he was fairly certain at least, that he was not going to have his ass set on fire and strung up a flagpole by the scary dude.  
  
Next time he would ask Jensen exactly who his friends were, too. Maybe he’d get lucky and actually get an answer, one that wasn’t vague and cryptic. Maybe he’d even learn more about Jensen than just his first name. Then again, maybe that was asking for far too much.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts, Benedetto,” a low raspy voice asked him from somewhere below.  
  
Jared started and looked around wildly before his eyes settled on a man lying on the ground in the 6x6 square feet of wilted, brown grass they called a front yard to their whore house. A scraggy face with a wide lazy grin and blue eyes partially hidden behind a wavy dark brown fringe stared up at him. It was the elusive Misha, a boy Jared was fairly certain was also a prostitute under the same pimp. He was hardly ever in the house, though, and made random appearances every now and again. The other boys spoke of Misha like he was some sort of deity. Not even Jake fucked with him out of some sort of respect.  
  
No one knew how old he was or how long he’d been a prostitute. He had yet to meet anyone who could tell him what corner Misha worked at night or where he went during the day when he wasn’t at the house getting high. It was almost like he was physically unable to stay in the same spot for very long and constantly wandered from party to party, couch to couch, alley to alley; Brownian motion embodied. Just like Jensen, with nothing and no one to tie him anywhere, it was easy to believe Misha didn’t actually exist. Before he actually met him, Jared was convinced everyone in the house collectively made him up to cope with their harsh life style.  
  
Misha was a very peculiar man from what Jared could tell.He was very, very good at his job. Misha could sweet talk a straight man to not only try gay sex, but to bottom as well, and still pay Misha for his services. He was the only teen Jared knew that didn’t mind being a prostitute and was a very happy man every time they met. How bad did your previous life have to be to actually enjoy selling your body for a pimp that didn’t give two shits if you died in the streets that night? It had to be pretty fucking horrible. Then again it could have been the massive amount of marijuana the guy smoked that kept him on an even keel.  
  
There always seemed to be something hanging from the older boy’s lips. If it wasn’t a joint, or a cigarette, it was someone’s cock. Someone once told him Misha sucked dick like he was robotically engineered for the task. Jared was inclined to believe them.  
  
“Benedetto?” Jared asked and flopped down next to Misha on the questionable grass.  
  
“Casanova’s fictional gay brother.”  
  
Jared almost laughed and turned his head to stare at the older boy who was gazing up at the afternoon sky with longing in his eyes. “You know this how?”  
  
Misha shrugged and took a long drag of his joint, sucking in the smoke and holding it between puffed up cheeks before exhaling with a harsh cough. The joint was offered to him, but Jared refused with a small shake of his head.  
  
“So does that mean everyone knows about my date with Jensen?” he not so subtly asked in curiosity, following the older boy’s gaze to where he assumed blue skies would be if they were obscured by smog.   
  
“Nope. I just happen to know everything.”  
  
“I am inclined to believe that.”  
  
Misha offered Jared his lazy smile again, red-rimmed eyes bright under the afternoon sky. He was relaxed in a way you didn’t usually see in streets kids, completely at ease in Jared’s presence. It felt like an episode of Happy Days, where Misha was the Fonze and Jared was Richie, the nerdy kid just pretending to be cool and trying to make a difference.  
  
Misha kind of made everyone feel like that. And yet somehow, or maybe because of it, everyone still always wanted to spend time with him. You never knew what sort of insane wisdom or complete and utter bullshit would come out of his mouth next.  
  
“That one sort of looks like a heffalump. What do you think?” Misha asked completely out of the blue, pointing to a white fluffy cloud in the polluted sky.  
  
Jared giggled at the inane comment, but looked to where he pointed. He saw the cloud in question, but to Jared it looked like nothing more than a blob. Maybe a flower, _maybe_ , if you were really imaginative. “Did you just make that word up?”  
  
“You poor unsheltered child,” Misha lazily drawled out past the joint still pressed between his lips. “Winnie the Pooh?”  
  
“I think I’ve heard of it. Maybe. It’s that fat bear thing with the honey, right?” He recalled vague memories of watching cartoons as a child, in the times his mother remembered to pay the electricity and cable bills, before she’d completely given up on living life and detached from the real world. The cartoon in question had never particularly interested him, though, and so he’d never given it much thought. Somehow it seemed like exactly the kind of thing Misha would like, though.  
  
“Riiight.” Misha rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “What do you think that one looks like?”  
  
“What is this? Therapy?” Jared asked. Joint hanging from the corner of his mouth, Misha smiled conspiratorially at him, eyebrows raised, a slight hint of a challenge in his blue eyes. “Fine, fine,” Jared conceded and stared at the white, fluffy cloud in contention. To Jared, it didn’t look like anything other than a cloud. “It looks like a cardboard box.”  
  
“You have no imagination,” Misha dryly teased. “I think it looks like Optimus Prime.”  
  
“Optimus Who?”  
  
“I do not envy you.” His brows were drawn together, rough voice dark and serious, blue eyes searching Jared’s face as if he was looking for something very important and coming up pathetically short. Jared sort of felt like he should feel insulted, but knew whatever conclusion Misha had reached was probably right. “Try again,” the older boy insisted. “What about that one?” he pointed to a cloud in the sky, slightly darker than the rest, a little more grey and threatening than the white fluffy ones bounding through the limited blue sky.  
  
Jared pondered the cloud in question for a moment, and thought for a second that it almost looked familiar, like he had seen something similar before. There were two sunken depressions that could almost pass for the eye sockets of a skull, a slight protrusion for a nose, and a dark smear of cloud that could have been a crooked smile. Protruding from what could have been the jaw area were jagged lines.  
  
“A dull, glassy eyed skull,” Jared finally responded, “with lightning where the crossbones should be.” A powerful image seared into the walls and memory of the city. It was the flag of the Ghost Brigade, the mark of their warriors, a symbol that emerged nearly six months ago, about the same time that Jared now knew Jensen rose to power.  
  
Six months ago, in the dead of night, a bold, embattled criminal painted that symbol in bright red, white, black, and blue above the doors of City Hall. To this day, there it still stood, a silent threat and constant reminder. But of what, Jared was not privy to such information.  
  
Jared wondered if Jensen was the one to paint that flag.  
  
The Mayor had laughed at the vandalism of his office and left it there, he said, to prove it meant nothing. _I will make the criminal responsible_ , the Mayor declared one bleary morning, _wash off this mere stain with their own two hands_. But that day had yet to pass.  
  
Jared wanted to believe that even the Mayor was just a tiny bit afraid of the man they called Jensen.  
  
“Hmm,” Misha briefly pondered. “I think you’re right.”  
  
They watched the cloud make its slow crawl towards the horizon until his heavy eyes slipped shut. Jared dozed on the brown grass under the cool autumn sky, away from the confines and smells and feelings of the house. It felt almost serene, almost uplifting, and freer, like they had the choice to be out here under the sun. Maybe that was why Misha always stayed away, to avoid the feeling of being utterly trapped.  
  
A slight rustling next to him woke Jared from his light nap. Misha stood silently to his feet and Jared watched him go, wondering when or if he would ever get to see the wandering man, without a place to call home, again. "I think we're meant to fly," Misha said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "I think once, long ago, we were all born with wings. But we forgot how to use them. One day we'll fly again," Misha promised to the sky looming above them.  
  
"I don't know about that," Jared just as quietly replied. He wasn't really sure they were meant for anything. Misha gave him a small, sad smile before turning to walk away and disappear once again. But before he could leave, Jared had to know, “Does-does this life ever get to you?” he quietly asked to the retreating form of his fellow hooker.  
  
Misha turned towards him, his face honest and honestly sad. “Of course, my young friend. Of course.”  
  
***  
  
It had been two long days since his date and Jared had not seen Jensen, nor heard from him since.  
  
With every day that passed, his good mood soured exponentially, a slow decrease at first and then a sudden, rapid plummet into all-consuming depression. He tried to remind himself that the scary dude never carried out on his threat. But all that meant was Jared didn’t hurt Jensen; it didn’t necessarily mean the other boy liked him.  
  
To top it all off, he had the weird feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, like there were eyes on him. And there was that _feeling_ , that shiver down his spine and that tingle one feels when someone is standing too close that made it seem like he was being followed.  
  
Jared brushed the feeling off as simple paranoia. Who in the world would want to follow him? Even if he was seeing Jensen, which Jared wasn’t sure he actually was, he still wasn’t all that interesting.  
  
Speaking of Jensen, “Do you think I’ll see Jensen again?” Jared wondered out loud. He burrowed his hands into his sweater pocket and hunched in on himself in a useless attempt to conserve body heat. As the days wore on, the nights grew colder, the sky a little darker and the hours of darkness, until the sun rose, a lot longer and lonelier. More time for business, but less time to wash the feeling of disgust away.  
  
If he couldn’t scrounge up enough money to buy a jacket soon, he would have to steal from the Thrift Store again, a coat this time to get him through the bitter nights.  
  
“Jared, for the hundredth time,” Vic snapped, exasperated with the question. “I do not know.”  
  
Jared pouted at his friend, but Vic rolled his eyes.  
  
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Kellin took pity on him on and asked.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared whined.  
  
“I think he’ll come back,” Kellin reassured. “It seemed like he liked you.”  
  
Jared wasn’t so sure about that. Jensen didn’t seem like much of anything. Aside from the few times Jensen really let his vulnerability shine through, and that brief moment at the pier, his green eyed man rarely let anything slip past his emotionless mask. Jensen was guarded and cautious at all times and wary just of Jared’s presence. It’s not like the guy actually ever said anything, let alone words that indicated interest. And what if Jared had imagined interest on the other's behalf, saw what he wanted to see? The man did beat up a gang member for him, but what if Jensen had changed his mind since then? What if Jensen decided Jared wasn’t worth pursing? “How do you know that?” he petulantly sulked and frowned at the two lovebirds who unknowingly mocked him every time they showed each other affection.  
  
“You’re being ridiculous, Jared. The man almost killed someone for you. I think that means something. Plus, he’s like one of the most powerful men in the city and he still took time to go on a date with _you_ ,” Vic bitched him out.  
  
“What if he decided he didn’t like me anymore after our date?” Jared moped as he kicked a rock across the pavement.  
  
“Why do you even care?” Vic angrily retorted. “You barely know the guy. And how many times do I keep having to tell you that he is a dangerous criminal. You shouldn’t be messing around with him. He’s probably a sociopath and can’t love anyway.”  
  
“Don’t say that about him!” Jared just barely refrained from yelling at Vic. He’d been warned by more than just Vic and Kellin that Jensen had a nasty reputation, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to believe it. He had to admit, the Ghost Brigade leader was a bit twisted. There was no way one could be a leader of a gang and not be a little bit twisted and messed up. He hid behind a tough exterior and dead, haunted eyes with a blank face and grimace both equally imposing and commanding. But Jared couldn’t shake the feeling that it all felt like an act. If it wasn’t really an act, why else would the man’s friend threaten Jared to protect him? Jared may barely know him, but Vic and Kellin didn’t know him at all and he didn’t like them judging Jensen like that.  
  
“Fine, fine,” Vuc gingerly conceded. “But I am warning you know, Jared, someone is _going_ to get hurt in the end.”  
  
Jared turned his back to Vic. He wanted to tell the older boy that wasn’t true, that Jensen would never do that. But he didn’t know himself, so instead he said nothing.  
  
He took the next client, a skittish young businessman who’d probably never had gay sex before in his life, just to get away from Vic’s heavy stare. The man ended up being too nervous to perform, despite Jared’s best efforts, but graciously still paid him for his time. When he got back to the corner, Kellin was alone.  
  
“Do you-do you think Vic is right?” he nervously asked, afraid of his answer. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”  
  
“I think,” Kellin said and stared up into the starless sky, deep in thought. “I think you need to follow your heart, Jared. And if it’s saying Jensen is something you should go for, then I think you need to listen to it.”  
  
Jared leaned against the other teen, their shoulders pushed together, warmth spreading between them. He smiled slightly, a soft blush staining his cheeks. “Thanks, Kellin.”  
  
***  
  
The long night carried on. Gently, it gave way to a relentless fog that suffocated the city. The first ray of sunshine was like a work whistle at the end of a long day, their cue to go home. But Jared tarried at the corner long after Kellin and Vic left, reluctant to return to his prison and unable to endure Vic’s harsh stare any longer.  
  
The older boy meant well, but his words weighed heavily on Jared’s heart. He could only hope he was making the right decision, and hope, well hope had never gotten him very far before. Hope always let him down.  
  
The fog crept through the streets and settled around him, like a blanket of invisibility. He welcomed the disguise.  
  
From the shadows, cast by the morning fog, emerged a lone figure with bowed legs and a worn leather jacket. A bag leaking with grease clutched tightly in his hand, his steps were hesitant as he cautiously approached.  
  
He stopped a foot short of Jared. Head bowed and eyes shifting nervously about, his visitor held out the bag towards him.  
  
A warm smile crept across his face as Jensen stood shyly before him.  
  
“This for me?” he quietly prodded. He took the bag from Jensen when the other boy nodded. Inside the bag were two egg, steak and cheese breakfast burritos from his favorite food truck, reserved only for mornings after a good night’s pay. “How’d you know?” Smiling, he raised one eyebrow towards Jensen in question.  
  
The gang leader shrugged his shoulders, in a gesture that seemed to say _‘lucky guess,’_ though Jared was sure there was more to it than that. “Come on,” he said and offered his hand on instinct, without thinking. When he realized what he had done, Jared was quick to draw his hand back. A warm touch to his palm stopped him. He looked down to see Jensen’s hand in his own. Before he could stop them, his lips quirked up into a smile, but he was quick to hide it as he laced their fingers together and dragged Jensen down the street.  
  
There was a little park a few blocks away that was too dangerous to be alone in and completely avoided by the general public. Unsavory characters trolled the few blocks of green land. The homeless inhabited the dark corners and staked claims on the few benches at night. Gangs fought frequently here and strangers with bulky jackets and closely guarded backpacks peddled drugs. A wooden cross and withered flowers next to a rusty slide on a rickety playground bore witness to the accidental shooting of a young teen, caught in the crossfire of a violent showdown. This was the one of the last sanctuaries for the dregs of society after the Mayor’s ‘clean up’.  
  
The streets were silent these days, though, well, at least a lot quieter than they had been. Fighting and other gang related incidents were became infrequent and scattered occurrences. And it was highly unlikely that anyone would dare to mess with the leader of the most powerful gang in the city. Jared figured it was relatively safe to commandeer a bench for their impromptu breakfast.  
  
The park was completely empty when they got there, nothing but a few birds and squirrels in sight. A swing creaked as it swayed in the wind, and the ever present sounds of city traffic and sirens were the only other sounds. He settled next to the wary teen on the first bench they happened across, leaving a few inches of personal space so as not to make either of them uncomfortable, before handing Jensen one of the burritos.  
  
Just like the ice cream on their first date, though, Jensen stared at the burrito and held it lightly in his hands, but did not taste it. That did not hinder Jared who ravenously tore into his own, savoring the taste of all that grease. “Miss me?” he gently teased after swallowing a mouthful of steak.  
  
Jensen shot him a look, expression unreadable and predictably no response was forthcoming. Jared smirked at his companion trying to convey that he was only teasing, not exactly sure if Jensen understood, before eating the last bite of his sandwich. “That was delicious. Thank you.”  
  
Jensen’s lips slightly curved upwards like he was trying to say ‘you’re welcome,’ but wasn’t quite sure how.  
  
He placed a hand on the bench between them, leaned towards Jensen, and caught his wary gaze. His green eyes were hard, but not unkind and the same fire that first drew him to the older teen still burned brightly in his eyes that said too much.  
  
“Did you-did you have a good time the other day?” he hesitantly asked and nervously bit his lip.  
  
“I,” Jensen began, and then stopped and furrowed his brows together, a look of intense concentration on his face. Jared patiently waited him out, briefly wondering if this was a break up speech waiting to happen. _It’s not you, it’s me._ “I did,” Jensen said softly instead.  
  
“That’s-that’s good. I, uh, I wasn’t sure if you would come back.” He leaned forward more, every part of his skin itching to touch Jensen. There were so many things he wanted to say. _I’m so glad you came back_ , or _can I hold your hand_ , or _we’re meant to be together_ , but they all sounded pathetic in his mind. “But, you did,” he finished lamely instead.  
  
He stopped inching forward when he noticed Jensen was uncomfortably leaning away from him. Jared removed his hand from the bench, leaned backwards and sprawled out across the bench.  
  
“So, I’m curious about you,” he casually began and ignored the suspicious, almost angry, heated glare Jensen shot at him. “Curious about the kind of things you like. So that maybe we can do them together?” he amended and watched the glare slide off Jensen’s face. The caution was still there, it never wasn’t, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted to punch Jared or flee the conversation. “Do you like cars?”  
  
Jensen more or less imperceptibly shrugged. The small movement would have been unnoticeable if his entire attention wasn’t so focused on the Ghost Brigade leader.  
  
“I’m gonna take that as a no,” Jared teased and offered Jensen his huge dimpled smile that melted mother’s hearts, to let him know it was only a joke. “Movies?”  
  
The one shoulder shrug was a little more noticeable this time. “No? Okay, music?”  
  
Jensen actually shook his head no at that one, a dangerous look passing across his face, but quickly gone before Jared could recognize it. His attention wandered, and focused on his lap and Jared knew he was either losing interest or becoming uncomfortable. He thought of the mark of the Ghost Brigade, the skull and lightning and the painting on City Hall. If Jensen was the one to paint it, then maybe he was interested in art. It was a stretch, but Jared was willing to try anything.  
  
“What about art? Do you like to draw?”  
  
Jensen neither shrugged nor shook his head, but he risked a quick glance up at Jared, cheeks a little bit red, before looking back down.  
  
“Ah, that is a yes,” he triumphantly declared. “I peg you for the kind of guy who has body art. Tattoos?”  
  
The older teen gave that almost smile that Jared understood to mean he was pleased at something, or at the very least not upset, or angry.  
  
“Can I see them?”  
  
Jensen nervously cast his glance around the park, as if to reassure himself that they were truly alone. He hesitated for a moment, before shrugging off his leather jacket. He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a stunning piece of artwork tattooed to his inner forearm. It was the mark of the Ghost Brigade. The artwork was simply amazing. The skull was immaculately detailed in black, white and grey, and was so lifelike, so _real,_ that it looked like someone had just pulled it out of a grave. There was a bullet hole between the eyes and delicate, thin cracks radiating from the single gunshot wound. Two glassy green eyes, the eyes of a blind man, stood out in stark contrast against the black and white skull. There was no lightning in this one, but there was blood red splatter near the bottom and behind the skull. It was both terrifyingly gruesome and exquisitely beautiful at the same time.  
  
Instinctively, Jared reached out to touch it. Jensen flinched, but held his arm steady and let him gently press his fingers to the smooth skin. “Wow,” he said and ran his finger lightly over the design. “It’s beautiful.” Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. Jensen minutely relaxed and quickly covered up. “Did you design that?”  
  
It was his first nod all night, and Jared counted that as a victory. They were not spoken words, but it was still communication and still a conversation in his book. “You’re very talented.”  
  
There was that almost smile again. At least Jared knew all his flirting was not for nothing. “Thank you,” his mystery man quietly whispered. _You should be proud_ , he thought, but knew better than to say it out loud.  
  
“I’d like to see more of your art,” Jared said, “someday,” he thoughtfully added. The gang leader did not respond, and his face was set in his impervious mask, but Jared liked to think that Jensen wanted that too.  
  
“I,” Jensen began and just like before hesitated. Whether just carefully considering his next words, or lacking confidence to speak them, Jared did not know, but he patiently waited for Jensen and never once did he push. “I like to read,” Jensen hurriedly said, the words rushing out of his mouth.  
  
“A well-educated man, huh?” he gently ribbed the older teen. “What’s your favorite, book?”  
  
“Oh, from this time forth. My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.”  
  
“Uh,” Jared quietly laughed. “I’m not sure I know that one.”  
  
“Hamlet,” was his soft reply.  
  
“Your favorite book is a tragedy?” Jensen’s expression turned more annoyed than angry. “I’m just saying, it’s a little depressing,” he said to which Jensen just shrugged. “But that’s cool. Never got a chance to read it myself.”  
  
If Jensen was going to reply, he never got the chance. A threatening figure appeared across the park. It was the scary dude that threatened Jared before his first date with Jensen. It caught the older teen’s attention though. His face immediately hardened, his shoulders lacing with tension. Before his very eyes Jensen changed from the boy he was dating to the man who ruthlessly lead a gang of street warriors. The difference was subtle and yet so obvious. This man scared Jared. With this person, Jared wasn’t sure where he stood, or how to act, leaving him nothing more than a leaf on the wind.  
  
“He a friend?”  
  
“He is,” Jensen confirmed.  
  
“You have to go?”  
  
“I do,” Jensen quietly admitted. His look softened momentarily, as he turned his attention back towards Jared. “I’m sorry, Jared.”  
  
“Will I see you again?”  
  
Jensen closed his eyes tightly, his face transforming briefly into a look of misery. “If I could make you that promise, I would.”  
  
He stood from the bench, and hesitated for a moment, lingering behind as the boy Jared had briefly come to know, before heading off as the warrior everyone else saw.  
  
“I’ll see you again,” Jared confidently assured. The almost smile appeared on Jensen’s face, before everything slipped completely away.  
  
Jared watched him disappear, back into the fog that was quickly fading in the morning light.  
  
And to himself, in the quiet park, he promised, “One day I will know everything about you.”


	6. It's Never That Easy

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Semi-graphic underage sex, coarse language, drug use (marijuana)  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

 **AN 2:** Don't hate me for the awful things I do to Jared in this chapter! T-T

***

**CHAPTER SIX: IT'S NEVER THAT EASY**

Have you ever looked at a person and knew, _you just knew_ , they were rotten to the core? With just one look you knew there was evil lurking within, that you would find no mercy, no sympathy in their embrace. They would sell the soul of their family for a little more power, or money, for _greed_ because they cared naught for anyone, but themselves. They fell, helplessly, hopelessly, miserably for their own reflection.  
  
They were the kind of person who cared for nothing and no one, guarded their selfish heart closely and burned to a smoldering pile of ash whatever obstacle got in their way. If ever you got close enough to look into their eyes, without first being burned, sucked into their charming scheme, or swept away like a pebble in a flood, it was like looking into two black holes. There was nothing there. No spark, no fire, no emotion except bitter, bitter, anger and _hatred._ If you dared to get too close, their dead eyes sucked your soul straight out of you, tortured it, mutilated it until you couldn’t remember who you were anymore, and then thrust it back in. When their cold lifeless hands touched you, it sucked the heat out of your body, until you were struggling to breathe, fighting against the riptide pulling you under, drowning in the depths of an icy sea. And if you ever found your body pinned beneath them, naked skin pressed together, with a cold blunt object viciously tearing into your most intimate and private places, it was like two bands wrapped around your chest, squeezing and squeezing like a boa constrictor until you were begging for them to stop, or ready to give in forever, ready to give everything you had just to make it stop. Just to make it all go away.  
  
Being with the Mayor kind of felt like that. It felt like dying.  
  
The Mayor could look the Devil himself in the eyes, and Satan would flinch away from the man.  
  
When Jared looked at the Mayor, he saw nothing, not even a tiny spark of life, just cold greed and a need for power. And the Mayor never gave Jared a second thought, never looked on with interest, just used his body and then quickly went on his way.  
  
This time was different, though. The Mayor looked at him differently, with the same cold, dead eyes and heartless smile, but there was interest in his eyes, a lust he had not seen before, and a more sinister countenance. His eyes were hooded with pleasure rather than his usual disgust and disinterest. Foul lips and a twisted tongue caressed the skin of his back and hands touched him, where usually they were kept to themselves or the mattress. The Mayor always took pleasure in Jared’s pain, but this time he seemed to enjoy it far more than usual.  
  
He was flat on his stomach, legs pressed together with the Mayor kneeling behind him, balls deep in Jared’s ass. His wrists were pinned above his head in a bruising grip, fingers clutched tightly around his flesh. He pressed his lips tightly together smothering his cries, refusing to give his tormentor the satisfaction of hearing him in pain.  
  
Whereas usually the Mayor was silent, except for his ragged breaths and exaggerated moans, this time there was no end to the filth pouring from his mouth, just like the time after Jared got beat up by the gang member. The words and moans were loud and confident in the small room and almost, _almost_ drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin. His words did nothing to take Jared’s mind off the burn and sting of pain inside of him.  
  
“There’s something different about you,” the Mayor taunted him, lips pressed close to his ear, each moan and gasp reverberating off his eardrum and searing into his memory. His tongue darted from his mouth and licked Jared’s ear. Surprised by the contact, he started and clenched the muscles of his ass, earning him a groan of pleasure form the Mayor and a sharp pain that seemed to drag across the inside of his flesh and make a slow, agonizing crawl up his spine. It only made him clench his muscles further, the pain becoming unbearable. Tears sprang to his eyes as the Mayor continued to thrust, forcing himself past the tight resistance with no regard to Jared’s well-being. He clenched his fists into the dirty sheets below him and took a deep breath, trying to will his muscles to relax and his hands to stop shaking. A tear worked its way from his eye, spilled down his cheek and splashed onto the bed below. “You’re not like the other street whores, boy.”  
  
If it was meant to be a compliment, it sounded like anything but. Nothing the Mayor ever said in his smooth cadence ever did anything but make Jared’s skin crawl, because nothing the man ever said was sincere. This corrupt man was full of lies and deceit. Jared wondered if he had been born that way or if maybe, once in his life a long time ago, if maybe he was just like any other child, carefree and innocent and keeping the whole world in their prayers every night. What happened to that child, if that child ever was? What made him this monster that didn’t even deserve to be called human?  
  
“I used to have a favorite before you,” the Mayor sinisterly whispered into his ear. “Know what happened to him?” he asked and Jared could hear the twisted smile in the man’s words. “I killed him. Choked the life right out of him. Watched the light leave his frightened eyes,” the Mayor said in pride. Jared shuddered in revulsion and fear. “But there’s something special about you, isn’t there?”  
  
A henchman entered the room, the same man that drove the Mayor to Jared’s corner every Wednesday. In his hand he carried a tool, glowing red hot at the blunt end. Pinned beneath the suffocating weight of the Mayor pressing him down into the bed like a layer of cement, he struggled valiantly, but ultimately (and they both knew it) in vain. Trapped, helplessly he watched as the tool was handed to the Mayor. The closer it got, the clearer he could make it out from the corner of his eye. Three letters, MAJ, glowed a burning hot red as steam curled off the top. He didn’t know what that meant, but he did know he did not want that burned into his skin.  
  
He tried to pull his arm from the Mayor’s grasp, but the man pressed down harder, knees pushing together to trap his legs between them. He drove his erection further into Jared’s body. Jared cringed at the pain, but even though his struggles ground the man’s erection into his ass and grated against his flesh, he continued to fight.  
  
“Don’t, don’t,” he begged as he tried to pull his arm away with all the strength he had. All for nothing his struggles were as his arm was pinned to the bed and the poker pressed to his skin, a maniacal glee written across the face of the Mayor. This time he could not hold back his cry of anguish as the hot metal tool scorched the flesh of his inner wrist. It sizzled and hissed as the brand burned its way through the layers of his skin. At the sound of his pain, the Mayor laughed and with a final thrust released his seed into Jared’s tightly clenched ass with an obscene moan.  
  
As the Mayor pulled from his body and left the dirty bed, Jared curled into a ball, clutching his burned wrist tightly to his chest. His traitorous lower lip wobbled threateningly and Jared bit it hard enough to draw blood to hold back his whimpers.  
  
The Mayor calmly dressed in his neatly pressed black suit as if nothing had changed, as if nothing was different. He turned back to Jared, his usual disgust once more colored in his eyes and this he said to him, “You’re mine now.”  
  
And every word of it, Jared believed.  
  
***  
  
Chest heaving, whole body shaking and mind awash with misery and complete and utter horror at just how cruel men could be, Jared blindly stumbled through the streets back to his corner, swaying to the frantic _thudthudthud_ of his wildly beating heart. A faint pain radiated from his wrist, the only sensory stimulation that penetrated the violent clash of emotions fogging up his mind. He felt like a trespasser in his own mind, separate, distant from the overwhelming pain and confusion. He was shutting down and breaking apart. The air felt frigid, his body numb. The ground tilted sideways. The curtains shut over his eyes without his permission. Muted sounds reached his ears, but none of them made any sense. He felt nothing, aware of only the beating of his heart and the sound of blood as it rushed past his ears, pounding erratically, completely unaware of the passing of time.  
  
He heard muddled voices first, distinct sounds that could have been words if only he could make his brain understand. Then something wet and cold was pressed to his forehead. The words, though still muffled, took shape, clarified into meaning. Jared, they said. Someone was calling his name.  
  
 _“Jared? Can you hear me? Jared?”_  
  
He blinked his wide eyes open until a worried face hovering above him sharpened into focus. Beneath two furrowed brows, brown eyes broadcasting concern were staring at him.  
  
“Jared?” The words, this time, were understood, intent clear. His senses gradually returned from the warm hand holding his shoulder down and fingers digging into his arm to the sound of traffic and sirens and the smell of garbage and filth and the hint of sea that permeated the air from dawn until dusk, and day upon never-ending day. “Jay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jared automatically responded, but it was more a conditioned response to his comrades’ queries over the years than an actual answer.  
  
“Dude, you just fainted,” Vic so obviously pointed out.  
  
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” he snapped. He was tired and confused, in pain and scared, reacting on feeling rather than thought and lashing out irrationally in any direction in a vain attempt to protect himself. Kellin, as always, saw straight through his bullshit.  
  
“Okay,” Kellin calmly placated, “why don’t you take a deep breath and just sit here for a few moments.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jared insisted and struggled against their hands as the need to be on his feet overpowered him. “Get off me.”  
  
Hands released their hold on his chilled skin. You learned how to read people quickly on the streets and prostitutes were particularly adept. In their line of business trusting that gut feeling, or picking up that creepy vibe from a stranger, could be the difference between living to work another day or the police finding your body in a ditch. Most importantly, a fellow hooker knew what it was like to day in and day out sell your body to the next stranger who pulled up in their car, knew what it was like to trade sex for money and pretend like it didn’t mean anything to anyone. Everyone broke down, everyone needed their space on occasion and everyone needed those moments to pull themselves back together, to pick up the shattered pieces of their innocence and leave behind what could not be salvaged, more and more debris being left behind every day. And everyone needed to pretend it never happened. They knew and didn’t judge and that was all Jared needed right now.  
  
Feet shuffled away as Jared shakily stood to his feet, legs unsteady, heart still pounding. They hovered nearby, ready to catch him if he fell, but still kept their distance, hands kept purposefully to themselves. Because above everything else, sex workers knew that in those moments it took to pull yourself back together, touch was unwanted. Being touched was a reminder of everything you had done to stay alive; everything you wished you hadn’t had to do. The Mayor, and all those other people walking past him on the streets every day, could never know that Jared didn’t need the brand to remind him of the Mayor, for his touch, and the touch of all the others, was already burned into his mind and body.  
  
But sometimes, sometimes being touched in a purely platonic way was all any of them wanted.  
  
This was one of those moments they knew to give him a moment. A few moments was all he needed to convince himself he was fine, perfectly peachy, not a single problem in the world. It had just been a bad day. Things would get better.  
  
There was so much to look forward to.  
  
So he sucked it up, masked away the pain and carried on, back to his post at the corner of fifth and Watson under the crumbling bridge in the dark corners of the destitute city.  
  
Vic and Kellin said nothing as he walked the few feet toward them; it was common courtesy not to bring up it. Both of his friends’ eyes still asked the questions, _what happened? Are you okay?_  
  
Jared smiled softly at their quiet concern. “I’m okay,” he said. “Really I’m fine.”  
  
Vic nodded and turned away, while Kellin carefully scrutinized him with a critical eye. Apparently satisfied, he too turned his attention away, offering his silent support by leaning slightly towards him.  
  
“I think I know something that’ll cheer you up,” Vic’s gruff voice perked up.  
  
“Yeah,” his voice came out hoarse and rough, “what’s that?”  
  
“It’s lover boy,” Vic pointed out and indicated Jensen’s approaching form with the nod of his head.  
  
Jared perked up, cheering up considerably, the brand and the Mayor instantly forgotten as he watched Jensen’s silent approach.  
  
“Aaand we lost him,” Kellin teased and waved a hand in front of his face. Jared playfully shoved him and then immediately tuned out his presence again. “I think we’re going to call it an early night,” Kellin giggled and dragged an unresistant Vic away.  
  
Jensen’s approach was slow, but confident, wary but decisive; his face passive, emotionless, but far from dead. It was different with Jensen than with the Mayor. He kept his expression blank and his face neutral, but to hide everything he felt, not because there was nothing there. His eyes said everything anyways. In his eyes a story was told of a purpose not yet fulfilled. There was desire and need, want and longing, pain and suffering, everything Jensen tried so hard to hide and never could. Or at the very least, that is what Jared saw.  
  
The Mayor was a man searching for more power, already with everything he needed, but wanting and taking and taking and taking more. Jensen was a man with power, but who knew what that really meant, who felt that burden and wanted nothing of it, but was driven by something important to keep it. Jensen was a man who _needed._  
  
Jared shook away his crazy thoughts; his imagination must really be running away from him now. Jared blamed Misha and his stupid clouds for that and Optimus Prime, whoever the Hell that was.  
  
“Hello there handsome,” Jared said, when Jensen stopped next to him. “I told you I would see you again.” He grinned like a fool because he couldn’t help himself and fisted his hands into his pockets because they itched to reach out to Jensen. He didn’t think he could control them if he dared to let them touch.  
  
In lieu of a response, Jensen gave Jared his almost smile; a slight quirk of his lips and crinkling of the eyes that quickly faded back to neutral. The formidable leader shuffled his feet nervously, eyes cautiously tracking the street, side to side, looking for any potential threats, before his left hand quickly darted into his pocket and pulled out a book. The book was old, cover faded, frayed and tattered around the edges and clearly well-loved and looked after. Jensen held out the book to him and reverently placed it into Jared’s open palm. Carefully, he handled the treasured item, gently peeling back the torn cover to reveal the title. _The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_ was neatly printed across the yellowed page.  
  
In his hands, Jared knew Jensen had placed an enormous responsibility as clearly he cared for the object a great deal. He _trusted_ Jared.  
  
He felt suddenly giddy, a burst of warmth and excitement bubbling uncontrollable to the surface. Jared stamped out the miscreant thought before he could betray himself and hug Jensen tightly to his a chest, an action that would most definitely be unwelcome.  
  
“Thank you,” he sincerely replied and offered his own shy smile, a faint blush staining his tanned cheeks. “I can’t wait to read it.”  
  
It was the first time since their eyes met all those weeks ago that Jensen looked genuinely happy, a faint underlining of excitement at the prospect of Jared actually being interested in his favorite book. His maybe boyfriend was quick to hide himself behind his mask before Jared had a chance to even register the look beyond his own shock and satisfaction. He’d been the one to put that look on a very grim face. Despite how pleased he was with himself, Jared reigned in his own emotions trying to not let his exuberance overwhelm the situation. He failed miserably as he grinned impossibly wide at his companion and did a little hop on the balls of his feet. Jensen didn’t balk or flinch, if anything Jared imagined he looked a little bit amused…maybe. It could have very well just been a grimace.  
  
“How many times have you read it?” he asked, curious and teasing at the same time.  
  
Jensen just shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed, and Jared took that to mean he’d definitely read the book more than once. “A lot?” Jared suggested and Jensen nodded slightly. “Guess I have a lot of catching up to do.”  
  
He placed the book carefully in the pocket of his sweater. “I’ll take good care of it, Jen” he promised when he saw Jensen’s expression fall back to neutral. He caught Jensen’s eyes, his smile still so wide his face was starting to hurt, and inched closer. “So I was thinking, since you said you liked art and everything, that maybe you’d like to go to Artist’s Alley?” Jensen did not respond and neither his face, nor his eyes gave any indication of what he may be thinking. His posture was more rigid and closed off than usual, face set in a scowl. Jensen took a step back into a defensive position, and his haunted eyes hardened. It was as if any progress with Jensen he’d made the last week had been instantly lost. Jensen looked stiff and uncomfortable and it was making Jared nervous. He licked his lips and nervously pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “You know, with me?” he anxiously asked, unsure of exactly what was happening.  
  
Everything changed so quickly after that. Later, if pressed for details, Jared could not recount exactly what happened. One second things were going great and it even felt like progress was being made, and then the next Jensen was stepping back from him, a wild, frightened look briefly flashing across his face before being replaced by a look akin to hatred. Jensen turned away and quickly fled down the street, tremors shaking his shoulders and his hands fisted by his sides as he muttered to himself.  
  
“Jensen?” he called softly after the fleeing teen, but the other teen did not turn around. Whether he was being ignored, or if Jensen honestly didn’t hear him, Jared did not know.  
  
Jensen continued to stagger down the street, leaving Jared alone and confused. He hesitated, unsure on whether or not to follow, when he saw another figure approach the Ghost Brigade leader. It was the scary dude, a friend, a man he hoped he could trust the care of Jensen to.  
  
Even from a distance, Jared could tell Jensen had gone from anger and hatred to fear and panic. The man with the blue eyes kept a careful distance, hands hovering above Jensen’s shoulders, careful not to touch, as he calmly spoke to his leader, but Jared was too far away to hear what was being said. Jensen was shaking and flinching away from his friend and every sudden noise that sounded on the streets as he stuttered a reply. His eyes constantly scanned back and forth and then twitched back and forth again as if he was expecting something or someone to violently attack. He took a step forward, determined to find out what was wrong and assist if necessary, but the man with the blue eyes pointedly shook his head ‘no’ at Jared; he didn’t look angry or homicidal, he just looked sad for his friend. The message was still painfully clear, though. _Stay away._  
  
Jared stood rooted to the spot as the man with the blue eyes led Jensen down the street, a hand at the hollow of his back, again hovering over his jacket and not touching, another hand gently placed on his elbow to guide Jensen’s uncertain steps. Devastated, Jared watched them go, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He didn’t know what happened. Didn’t know what had gone wrong.  
  
Was this goodbye? He didn’t know and it hurt, it hurt so fucking much, more than he thought.  
  
He’d known a painful past lurked behind haunted eyes, but never did he consider that he would be faced so blatantly with the repercussions.  
  
He always had been told he never thought things through enough.  
  
His mystery man disappeared around a corner, maybe forever, and Jared? Jared didn’t know how to feel about that.  
  
***  
Sullen and miserable, Jared walked back to the house, shoulders hunched in defeat and heartache written on his face. He played the scene over and over and over again in his mind, trying to determine what went wrong, but he came up blank every time.  
  
Had he done something to anger Jensen? It seemed unlikely, but the older teen had been so _angry._ He wasn’t just angry, though, he was scared. Something had frightened him enough to freak out and take off and Jared was once more left wondering if he would ever see him again.  
  
After what the Mayor had done to him, Jared was so sure there was still so much to look forward to. His list had just shrunk considerably.  
  
Jared could admit he was sulking, but he refused to admit that he was about to cry. Like Vic said, he barely knew Jensen. But…  
  
But nothing. Jared had been alone his whole life and he’d survived this far. Chin up, knuckle up, and carry on. Suck it up. Story of his life.  
  
He stopped at the steps of the house and stared at the stained, wooden door of his prison. He reached for the handle, but couldn’t make his hands open the door. Instead, Jared stuffed his hands into his sweater. He felt the worn book so earnestly placed into his care, forgotten by both in the aftermath.  
  
He felt a fleeting moment of hope. Jensen would come back for it. That, at the very least, Jared did believe.  
  
Jared was about to finally open the door, when he was violently yanked off the steps by a hand fisted in the hood of his sweatshirt. He let out a small shout of surprise, arms flailing wildly to regain his balance as his unknown attacker dragged him to the side of the building and down the narrow passage that led to the ‘backyard.’ He lashed out frenziedly with his arms and legs until he landed a solid blow to his attacker. The assailant let out a soft ‘oomph’ and dropped Jared to the ground. Jared surged to his feet and was about to scream for ‘help’ when a hand clamped over his mouth.  
  
“Shut up, Jared!” a familiar voice hissed at him. It was freaking Vic, the bastard. And the hand clamped over his mouth belonged to Kellin. Misha was there too, giggling hysterically like he’d inhaled too much Nitrous Oxide. Which, come to think about it, was a very real possibility.  
  
“You fuckers,” he hissed back, glaring at his friends and brushing the dirt from his jeans. “What was that?”  
  
“You looked sad,” Misha responded and pouted at Jared. “So we thought we’d cheer you up?” He laughed and waved his hands dramatically, which ended up looking more spastic than anything else. _Misha must really be on the good stuff today_ , Jared thought.  
  
“How? By scaring me half to death?”  
  
“No,” Misha said and rolled his eyes at him. Jared knew he was completely in the right being angry, but felt oddly chastised by the other teen. “With this!” Misha held up a giant bag of weed.  
  
“You in?” Vic asked.  
  
Jared thought about it for a moment. He’d never really tried drugs before, aside from possible second hand highs he might have gotten from being in the same room as his mother for too long. He never really had the inclination to do any, and refused to be one of those prostitutes that got addicted to meth or heroine and Od’d in some shitty hotel or alleyway with no one to claim the body. But it had been an unbelievably shitty day, more like an unbelievably shitty year, and he felt totally justified doing some pot to relax and have some fun.  
  
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, okay, I’m in.”  
  
“Good,” Misha clapped excitedly. The eccentric teen started pulling various odds and ends out of his jacket pocket and dumping them onto the ground: a Swiss army knife, a half-eaten and moldy sandwich, a lighter shaped like the statue of liberty, two dozen condoms of various sizes, colors and flavors, an empty flask, a water bottle, a purple lollipop, pen and a pad of post-its, two packs of cigarettes, stickers and an honest to god bong.  
  
No wonder Misha never stayed in one place and always wandered. Apparently he lived out of his jacket with the never ending pockets. If he was creative enough, and Jared had not doubt that he was, Misha could probably even fashion a tent out of his jacket.  
  
“What are you? Mary Poppins?” Kellin joked and picked up a neon pink, cotton candy flavored, ribbed for her pleasure condom. He held it up for Vic to see, eyebrows raised and a leer on his face. Vic just shook his head and quietly chuckled.  
  
“You can have that if you want,” Misha seriously said as he set up the bong. Kellin shrugged his shoulders, shooting a look towards Vic that said ‘why not?’ and pocketed the condom. It looked like Jared was sleeping outside today, because he so did not want to share a room with Vic and Kellin with whatever scary and probably kinky plans they had for that stupid pink condom.  
  
“It’s all set up,” Misha cheerfully said and sat crossed legged on the ground, Vic, Kellin and Jared following suite. “Who wants to go first?”  
  
“Maybe you should,” Kellin suggested. “I’m not quite sure how to do it.”

  
“It’s easy,” he said as he heated up the bong with his statue of liberty lighter. “You just suck up the smoke,” he spoke and immediately demonstrated, “hold it,” Misha instructed while holding his breath, “and then you just exhale.” He blew the smoke out of his nose and passed the bong over to Jared. “Here, you try.”  
  
Hesitantly, Jared took the offered object. He looked around his group of friends staring back expectantly at him, before lighting and inhaling just like Misha showed him. It _burned_ his mouth and lungs, and rather than smoothly blowing the smoke out of his nose like Misha, he choked on it and nearly coughed up a lung in the process. Quickly, he passed the bong on. Kellin cast a wary glance at Vic, who nodded reassuringly, before taking a hit. He didn’t have much more success than Jared, and coughed and gagged before shoving it into Vic’s hands.  
  
Misha watched on in amusement as they continued to pass the small bong around their little tight nit circle, blowing smoke circles when it was his turn and laughing when Vic, Kellin, and Jared coughed up a lung every time. Jared didn’t really feel anything, not at first at least. Perhaps a slight tingling of his fingers and a numbness creeping over his body, but not much else. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, maybe objects flying in the sky, talking heads and animals, burning bushes, but surely not _nothing._  
  
Misha flopped down onto his back, one arm folded beneath his head, the bong discarded next to him. He was grinning from ear to ear, staring up into the night sky. One hand was pointed straight up in the air, index finger drawing patterns only he could see in the sky. Jared followed suite, clumsily flopping backwards, his head bouncing off the ground. Oddly, it didn’t hurt.  
  
“The stars are watching us,” Misha insisted. “I’m going to marry that one,” he said and pointed to the North Star.  
  
For some reason that he could not fathom at the moment, Jared found that statement profoundly amusing. He started laughing, small chuckles at first that turned into full on hysterics he could not control. He felt a little funny suddenly, a little numb around the edges. Reality seemed blurry and fuzzy and not quite all there and it made him feel giddy and excited.  
  
“Yeah? What’s his name?” Vic asked Misha from somewhere to his right. Lazily, he rolled his head to look at the older teen, not quite able to make Vic out with his blurry vision.  
  
“Twinkle,” Misha responded without missing a beat.  
  
“Man, his parents must really hate him to give him such a gay name,” Jared blurted out, not a hundred percent cognizant or in control of the words coming out of his mouth.  
  
“Our gay love will be epic!” Misha dramatically announced.  
  
“I always thought you were gonna marry a rainbow,” Jared teased back.  
  
“Tried that. Too high maintenance.”  
  
“I totally agree,” Vic agreed and he looked dead serious about it too.  
  
Jared burst into laughter again.  
  
Kellin suddenly sat straight up next to him. “I’m hungry,” he announced.  
  
Misha grabbed some cash out of his sock and sprung to his feet with more grace and energy than someone as high as him should have had. He threw his cash up in the air over their heads and let it rain down. “Burgers for everyone!” he insisted.  
  
“It’s raining money! Hallelujah, it’s raining money!” Vic suddenly burst into song, from the ground, to the tune of ‘It’s raining, men!”  
  
Kellin jumped to his feet , arms open to sky. “Hallelujah!” he shouted and burst out laughing. He offered Vic a hand to help him up. Vic got about half way up, before his hand slipped out of Kellin’s and he landed straight on his ass, sending both Vic and Kellin into hysterical giggles again. He managed, on the third try, to finally get to his feet.  
  
Vic threw an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders and they staggered towards the front of the house, Misha and Jared following suite, when a dark figure emerged from the house. It was Jake, the brown-nosing jack ass that followed their cruel pimp like a fucking puppy.  
  
He crossed his arms, staring them down, and blocked their path. “Going somewhere?”  
  
“Nope,” Misha coolly responded and casually hung off of Jared, arm around his shoulder, lit cigarette hanging from his mouth and when Misha managed to light a cigarette, Jared had no idea. Vic and Kellin stopped singing their horribly off key version of ‘It’s raining men” and shared a sobering look between each other.  
  
“Can I come with you guys?” Jake asked.  
  
“I just told you we’re not going anywhere,” Misha said with surprising vehemence in his cool words. “So I guess you can’t.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Jake said. Jared still hated Jake for tricking him. When he first took to the streets and met Jake, the older teen had led Jared to believe that he was taking him someplace safe. Instead, he’d been to taken to their pimp and spent that night being beaten and forced to have sex with both Jake and the pimp, until he agreed to work for the man. He didn’t blame the whole situation on Jake. Jared had been the one stupid enough to get himself stuck in this whole mess, but he had still been used and deceived and Jake didn’t have to do any of that. None of the other hookers recruited for their Pimp, so why did this jerk do it?  
  
But it in this moment, when Jake’s face fell and he looked almost chastised and upset, Jared almost, _almost_ , felt bad for the bully. Almost.  
  
Jake disappeared back into the house and Vic and Kellin began to giggle uncontrollably again, staggering past the house and down the street to the closest food joint, Sri Sri’s, an amazing burger restaurant a few blocks away.  
  
“I hate that dick,” Misha told him, arm still slung around his shoulders as they much more steadily followed the two lovebirds.  
  
“Yeah,” Jared agree, sure that Misha had his own reasons for hating the other teen.  
  
“Look! It’s a froggy!” Kellin nearly screeched. He pulled away from Vic and ran down the street, hopping on his feet and pointing at what was definitely not a frog, but indeed a homeless person with a tattered, dirty, knitted winter hat in the shape of a frog.  
  
Vic chuckled nervously, quickly caught up with his boyfriend, wrapped an arm around his waist and ushered Kellin quickly along.  
  
“But I want to kiss the frog and make a prince!” Kellin whined as Vic pulled him along. He suddenly turned around in Vic’s arms, hands on Vic’s hips. “That’s okay,” he smiled. “I already have my prince.” He kissed Vic deeply, a hint of tongue peeking out, and proceeded to devour Vic’s lips in the middle of the sidewalk. Jared was definitely not sleeping in their room tonight. He did not need to see them have sex…again.  
  
“I don’t trust that hobo,” Misha told him, gaze serious as he cautiously looked at the homeless man sleeping in the alley. “He will eat your socks.”  
  
Jared seriously doubted that was true, but he nodded his head anyways.  
  
“Come along, you two,” Jared said and snagged Kellin’s arm, interrupting their kiss. “Food, remember?” he redirected their attention, hoping to not get them arrested tonight.  
  
“Food!” Kellin yelled, immediately distracted from Vic. He took off running down the street towards the restaurant.  
  
They gorged themselves on burgers and fries and cokes, Misha demanding to pay for everyone and where he got the money to afford it, Jared didn’t know.  
  
“So, why were you so upset earlier,” Misha asked Jared as they followed a slightly less exuberant, but no less horny, Vic and Kellin back to the house. “Something happen with Jensen?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared shrugged. “It seemed like things were going great and then today, he just freaked.”  
  
Misha paused for a moment, seemingly concentrating hard on an answer. “Jared," he carefully began, "there is a lot going on in this city that you don’t know about.”  
  
“And you do?” Jared replied in a snarky tone. He wasn’t mad at Misha, not really. He was just mad; mad at Jensen, at the Mayor, and at the world for always tricking him into thinking things were finally looking up and then snatching everything away from him.  
  
“People talk,” Misha shrugged. “I hear things.”  
  
“I have the freaking Mayor for a client, and I don’t hear ‘things’.”  
  
“The Mayor is telling you everything. You’re just not listening.”  
  
“Whatever,” Jared said and rolled his eyes.  
  
“All I’m saying,” Misha gently placated, “is if you really like him, wait for him. Be patient. He will be back.”  
  
And that? That Jared really wanted to believe.  
  
***  
The sun had risen while they were feasting at Sri Sri’s, but the house was eerily dark and silent when the three of them, sans Misha, entered their whore house.  
  
Jake was waiting for them, his arms crossed, a smug look smeared across his pimpled face. “The Boss wants to see you, Jared,” he sneered.  
  
“O-okay,” he stuttered. Being called to the pimp’s office was never a good thing. The pimp only ever talked to his underlings when he wanted to punish them or was bored and wanted sex. He only ever saw the other hookers leave his office with a limp in their step or a stiff set to their shoulders. Jared wasn’t sure what was worse, being beaten or forced to have sex. At least on the street he got paid for his services, but his pimp simply took what he wanted and gave nothing in return, except a shitty roof over his head.  
  
“Right now,” Jake demanded and grabbed his arm tightly.  
  
Vic stepped forward defensively, but Jake put a hand to his chest to stop him. “Just Jared.”  
  
He was being dragged down the hallway before he could give his feet the order to move, Jake using more force than necessary to pull him along. He stumbled along hurriedly, before Jake stopped at their pimp’s office and pushed him through the door, slamming it shut behind him.  
  
“Jared,” his pimp calmly greeted. He was seated at his desk, the sun filtering in behind him through dark blue curtains. The room was mostly bare, except for a locked up cupboard that Jared knew was full of gin and whiskey, and a wooden chair. A gun was hidden beneath the desk, and his pimp kept his bamboo cane on display, sickeningly propped against the desk as a reminder of what would happen should any of them step out of line. “Sit, please.”  
  
Cautiously, he inched into the room, never taking his eyes off of his boss and stiffly he sat in the chair.  
  
His pimp pulled out a single glass and filled it to the brim with whiskey, keeping a critical eye on Jared, before he roughly grabbed the glass and leaned back in his plush, velvet chair. “A few years ago, this wasn’t exactly the career choice I had in mind,” he began, a distant look in his eyes. He took a long drag of his drink and sharpened his gaze on Jared. “I was a General,” he continued, “in a very prominent gang. I had prestige, power, wealth. And now look at me.” He gestured to the bare room, a grimace of distaste on his face. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”  
  
Jared gulped nervously and shook his head ‘no.’  
  
“I worry about you, Jared. You need to be very careful of the friends you make, or something awful just might happen. Understand?”  
  
Dumbly, Jared nodded his head, completely aware of the thinly veiled threat in his pimp’s words.  
  
“Good. I’m glad we understand one another. You’re dismissed,” he said with a wave of his hand.  
  
Jared quietly snuck out of the room, as his pimp returned to his work.  
  
He shook off Kellin and Vic’s concern, and went straight to bed, huddled tightly under his thin blanket.  
  
It seemed his life just became far more complicated.


	7. Same Shit, Different Day

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
****

**Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Mentions of underage sex, coarse language, underage drinking  
****

**Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
****

**AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER SEVEN: SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT DAY**

It was the perfect cover for a crime: a darkened alley in a desolate neighborhood where sin lurked around every corner and the people turned a blind eye. The cops couldn’t be bothered to care about some petty theft amongst a hopeless crowd. The neighboring building was empty and deserted. There was no one to see him sneak in the side door, no security to sense his presence, and no one to care even if he was spotted. One old rusty door with a single lock and no bolt separated Jared from the streets and the goods he desired. Any kid who wanted to survive longer than a day on the streets knew how to pick a lock. He could slip in and silently slip out and no one would ever be the wiser.  
  
Granted, it _was_ only a thrift store, battered and weathered with time, but Jared still felt a small thrill of victory as the lock clicked open under his skillful hands. He sneaked silently inside the blackened building, unnoticed by everything but the rats. There was no need to hurry. He had plenty of time to peruse the isles of the thrift store for a winter jacket that suited his needs. Thursdays were usually slow until midnight and there was no use staying at the house.  
  
He couldn’t sleep. Jared tossed and turned all day, his skin itchy and hot, _burning_. Just as his eyes would start to drift closed, he would snap wide awake. It was the book, the revered play Jensen had placed in his hands that night so long ago. He could _feel_ it, a great big lump beneath his mattress that kept his eyes wide open.  
  
At first, the book had sat like a beacon on the small table next to his bed. Jared tried to ignore it, tried to hide it under his pillow and forget about it. When that did not work, when his mind kept wandering back to the gift, he shoved it angrily under his mattress. And yet it still called to him, and Jared kept thinking about it, wondering why it was so important to Jensen, where Jensen had gotten the book from? How many times had the feared leader sat down and diligently poured over the words? How many times had his calloused hands run over the script? What exactly did it mean to him? What did Jensen see when he read those words?  
  
He fled the room whenever he could, spent a longer time lingering at his corner every night and day. But it was of no use. He couldn’t keep his mind off of Jensen, the boy who was slowly stealing his heart.  
  
A whole week had passed since the incident with Jensen and Jared despaired of ever seeing the other teen again. He kept his eyes open, habitually scanning the streets for a sign of Jensen or the scary dude, but there were none. There was nothing at all.  
  
At this point, it seemed almost a given that Jensen wasn’t coming back.  
  
Since that night, Jared had not seen a single member of the Ghost Brigade either, from those who seemed close to Jensen down to the street members. Their territory seemed almost desolate, deserted, almost as if they had never been there at all. But the truly weird thing was the rumors of an armistice between the Ghost Brigade, Street Warriors, and the United Arms. The three most powerful gangs in the city, rivals from as far back as the Prohibition, sharing an uneasy peace? It was unheard of, seemingly impossible until it happened.  
  
No one really knew the reason behind it, except those involved, but it left an eerie feeling hanging over the city, a feeling of dread. The ceasefire had everyone on edge, frantic, anxious for the next unknown move. Something big was coming, everyone knew it, something the city’s gangs feared enough to set aside their differences and band against.  
  
Jared shuddered to think about it, about what could terrify so many fearless people. It was not a thought anyone wanted to dwell on, a feeling that went unspoken, but was felt with every breath by every individual. Even if they didn’t know it, they were _waiting_ for something to happen. It was like standing at the edge of the beach, the wind whipping past, sun fading in the distance and great, dark billowing clouds building on the horizon. Calm prevailed at the moment, but you were waiting, waiting for a storm you knew was coming. The suspense hurt, like losing control of your car and knowing you were about to crash, but there was nothing you could do about it.  
  
Even the Mayor felt the unspoken tension and was edgy because of it, as if he knew his hard earned image of the city as a family place was about to be ruined. The Mayor had made his routine Wednesday night booty call, but there was a fire in his eyes, a rage boiling barely beneath the surface. No words had been spoken as Jared was dragged into the room by a hand around his neck. He’d been taken right there, right against the door, hard, fast and painful before a fist connected with his face.  
  
Nothing was said as over and over again the Mayor’s knuckles cracked against his pale flesh. He feared, for a mere second, that this was the end.  
  
But the Mayor regained control quickly, rage receding back to hollow hatred before he tossed Jared back onto the streets like he would a cigarette butt.  
  
The damage had been minimal, a few bruises here and there, but nothing felt broken. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a prostitute, so when Jared crawled back to his corner, Vic and Kellin barely batted an eye.  
  
Jared hardly felt the difference himself.  
  
And yet something about it, about the whole situation, still felt so odd.  
  
He shook off the feeling and wandered further into the dingy thrift store. There weren’t a whole lot of choices for winter jackets in his size, he was almost six feet tall and still growing, and what the store did have to offer was worn and butt ugly. But Jared wasn’t particularly picky, couldn’t exactly afford to be. What was that old saying? Beggars can’t be choosers? That was Jared’s life in a nutshell. So he chose a faded green jacket that was just a shade too big and uglier than a crack whore’s face, but enough to keep him warm.  
  
He spotted the used couches on the way out and they seemed so tempting. He was exhausted and the thought of the long night ahead of him made him want to cry with frustration. Maybe just a quick nap before work, enough to keep him going just a little while longer.  
  
He crept towards an awful paisley couch and gratefully sank onto something soft and squishy and warm and….and that was _not_ fabric that his butt just touched!  
  
“Holy shit!” he hollered as he leapt from the couch. _Please don’t be a dead body_ , he thought, _please, please don’t be a dead body._  
  
A warm hand latched onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Jared spun around quickly, pulling his caught wrist towards him and striking out with his free hand. His trapped wrist came easily, his other hand hitting nothing but open air.  
  
“Boo!” a familiar voice laughed from below.  
  
“Jesus, Misha!” Jared yelled and tugged his wrist from Misha’s grasp. He hadn’t seen the other boy since the night they got high together and he'd sort of missed him, but he never expected to run into Misha here. “You _are_ trying to scare me death, aren’t you?”  
  
“You’re the one that sat on me,” Misha pointed out as he sat up, thin arms draping across the back of the couch.  
  
“What are you doing here?” he asked.  
  
“The same thing you were just about to do. Sleeping.”  
  
“You sleep here often?” Jared asked in a joking tone. He couldn’t see anyone, even Misha, sleeping in a thrift store on a regular basis.  
  
Misha shrugged nonchalantly. “Cathy lets me.”  
  
Catiria Rodriquez, or Cathy to those who couldn’t pronounce her name, was the current owner and manager of The Westside Thrift Store. Cathy was a middle aged latino woman with enough sass to power the entire east coast. She took no bullshit from anyone and threw from her store any troubled teen who dared to even look at her wrong, but she treated those who respected her kindly. She cared about the kids on the streets and the poor struggling to survive in a city that didn’t care for them. The Mayor tried to shut her down, just like he did everything else that catered to the poor, but Cathy wouldn’t let him. She fought tooth and nail to keep the store open in a full out legal battle in court that Cathy eventually won. Then the Mayor had tried to buy her out. Cathy tried to have him arrested for bribery.  
  
Somehow, valiantly, Cathy’s thrift store and soup kitchen remained opened much to the chagrin of the government. The woman was an unmovable force, the last beacon of hope in a dying city. It was just like Misha to know someone like that. In fact, Jared was convinced there wasn’t anyone on the Westside who _didn’t_ know Misha.  
  
“Nice jacket,” Misha nodded towards the hideous scrap of material hanging off his shoulders. Misha’s hands twitched before compulsively grabbing his lighter and pack of cigarettes.  
  
“Shut up,” Jared replied. “There’s not a lot of choices to steal from in a thrift store.”  
  
“Steal?” Misha huffed. “Hardly,” he said and gave Jared a look that said _‘yeah right’_ as he fiddled with his lighter, flicking it until a small flame lit up the dark room and then snapping the lid closed, then repeating the motion over and over again. Jared briefly wondered what happened to the Statue of Liberty lighter, but with all the shit Misha kept in his pockets, it was probably lost in one of them.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Jared warily asked and eyed Misha suspiciously.  
  
“Why do you think it’s so easy to break in here? Why do you think thefts never go reported? Cathy _wants_ street kids to steal her clothing. She’d just give it away to kids if she thought they’d actually accept the handout.”  
  
Jared deflated a little at that. True, he didn’t feel so bad anymore about ripping off a thrift store, but knowing taking the jacket was practically the same thing as accepting a gift, kind of killed the whole thrill of breaking the law. It wasn’t fun or exciting anymore. Cathy was right, though. If she just told streets kids they could take whatever they wanted, nobody would. The woman truly was a saint.  
  
“I always did think it was too easy to break in,” Jared sighed and wearily plopped down on the couch next to Misha.  
  
Misha’s dark eyes followed him, hands momentarily stilling. “You look like shit.”  
  
Jared managed a weak glare before resting his head against the back of the couch.  
  
“The Mayor do that to your face?” he asked, indicating the black eye and bruised cheek.  
  
“Yeah, how’d you know?” He opened one eye long enough to peek at his friend.  
  
“Lucky guess,” Misha said, snapping the lid closed on his lighter before pocketing it. His eyes canted away, head tilting to the left in an uncharacteristic nervous gesture.  
  
“You know something,” Jared blurted out and instantly knew it was true.  
  
“I know a lot of things,” Misha easily evaded.  
  
“Don’t fuck with me. The whole town’s on edge. The Ghost Brigade is suspiciously missing, the streets are too quiet and you know something about it.” Jared wasn’t sure where his sudden curiosity came from. What did it matter? He was just a prostitute, a nobody, a nothing. Whatever was coming was unlikely to have anything to do with him and if he wanted to live through the coming storm, the best thing for him to do was keep his head down and stay out of it.  
  
Jensen was involved, though, and he tried to tell himself he didn’t care what happened to him, he really tried. But that wasn’t really true, was it?  
  
“I suppose I do,” Misha said matter of factly in a tone that clearly said he wasn’t about to share more.  
  
“Fine, keep your secrets,” he huffed. Misha lazily smiled at him before putting out the butt of his cigarette and popping a sucker into his mouth. He noisily slurped his sucker before his hands disappeared into his long brown jacket. They reappeared wagging a blue raspberry sucker between two fingers.  
  
“Hand it over,” Jared reluctantly sighed and grabbed the item wondering if Misha knew blue raspberry was his favorite or if it was just coincidence.  
  
“You got nothing to worry about,” Misha told him after several minutes of quiet contemplation. “You’re protected.”  
  
“What does that mean?” _Protected by who,_ he thought, _and from what?_  
  
“It means you’re an idiot,” he said and laughed when Jared shoved him. “Now let’s get drunk!” From a pocket the size of his fist, Misha magically pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and took a long drink from the half empty bottle.  
  
“You really are Mary Poppins,” he joked and snatched the proffered bottle. He had places to be, people to blow, perverts to fuck, money to make. As he looked at the bottle in his hands, felt the bruises throbbing on his face, and the ever present ache in his ass, Jared didn’t give two shits anymore about where he was supposed to be or who he was supposed to be doing. Tonight he wanted to forget. Tonight he wanted to live for himself. Tonight he didn’t care.  
  
Tonight he was just Jared and no one else.  
  
***  
  
A gentle nudge to his shoulder woke Jared in the early morning.  
  
“Fuck off, Misha,” he groaned and rolled over on the coffee stained couch. He had a headache, his stomach hurt and if the vertigo was anything to go by, then Jared was still completely drunk. The two of them had nearly finished Misha’s bottle of Jack Daniels and while at the time it was hilarious, now he just felt like dying.  
  
Small snatches and pieces of memory were his only recollections of the night.  
  
_“I mean, what did I do wrong? Why did he leave like that? Why isn’t he coming back?” Jared drunkenly slurred. The room was wildly spinning and quickly losing its definition. The bottle of Jack slipped from his numb fingers splashing liquor all over his pants. The teal lampshade was casting eerie shadows and everything seemed so sad and depressing and fucked up.  
  
“Jared, shut the fuck up, man and lighten the fuck up.”  
  
He’d been confused for a split second, but then thought_ this is Misha, he’s probably right. _“Okay.”_  
  
He lost time after that. There were flashes of random images, snatches of weird conversations about people they knew and philosophies of life.  
  
_“I think your pimp’s nose is an entire planet and there is a whole civilization of creatures living in that monstrosity,”_ he remembered Misha saying.  
  
Or _“I think the whole world is just a 3D projection off a 2D surface at the end of the universe and one day the whole illusion will crash and burn.”_  
  
At the end of the night, when coherent thought had long since fled and Jared was too drunk to remember his name, he was pretty sure Misha blew him.  
  
_“Let’s fuck_ ,” he remembered Misha saying.  
  
_“Okay,_ ” he heard himself reply.  
  
It could have been a dream. He put a hand down the front of his pants and found the spot still wet, though. Oh yeah, Misha _definitely_ blew him. He briefly wondered if he returned the favor, but could recall no such memories.  
  
“You were going to,” a voice responded.  
  
“What?” Jared groggily asked, way too drunk and confused to understand what was being said.  
  
“You were going to return the favor,” Misha clarified, “but then you leaned over the side of the couch and puked all over the floor.” He jerked his thumb towards the puddle of vomit staining the carpet. “Kind of killed the mood, dude. No one wants vomit breath anywhere near their dick.”  
  
“Sorry?” he mumbled and flopped on his back, too tired and disoriented to do anything else.  
  
“S’okay. You better get up, though. Cathy may let me sleep here, but if she finds us and that vomit, then she’ll make us stay here all day and work.”  
  
“Ugh,” Jared unintelligibly groaned as Misha grabbed his shoulders and forced him to sit up. “Fuck me.”  
  
“Come on, you pansy, rise and shine!”  
  
“I’ll rise, but I refuse to shine,” he complained as he plopped his heavy feet over the side of the couch.  
  
Misha was light on his feet, as graceful and relaxed and cheerful as always as if he hadn’t drank a fourth of whiskey the night before. Jared kind of hated him right now.  
  
He was dragged unceremoniously from the couch and practically kicked out the side door. Misha kindly locked up behind them with a key he pulled out of an inner pocket that Jared never noticed before. Jared wondered what else the teen was hiding.  
  
The sun had already risen by the time they emerged from the building. The blinding light burned his sensitive eyes and made his pounding skull ache. Drinking…not so much fun, Jared was quickly discovering. It made him pour out his emotions, wear his heart on his sleeve and then left him with massive regret in the morning.  
  
“Greasy food and water will get rid of that,” Misha supplied.  
  
“Thanks,” Jared groaned and turned to his friend, but Misha was gone, disappearing faster than Jared could comprehend.  
  
His stomach felt queasy and at the same time he felt oddly hungry. Seeing as he never showed up to work his corner last night, Jared had no money for greasy food. He could only hope that Jeff and Sam were around in their beat up old pickup with a cooler of sandwiches.  
  
He lucked out. He heard from a kid who heard from another kid that Jeff and Samantha were hanging out around 5th and Center, which wasn’t a short walk, but definitely doable.  
  
The walk turned out to be Hell on Earth. He stumbled over uncoordinated feet and listed constantly to the right. He was sweating profusely, but experiencing intense thirst, and increasingly gaining unwanted stares of disgust from passersby on the street.  
  
It was with great relief that he finally stumbled across Jeff and Samantha.  
  
“Hey, haven’t seen you around in a while, kid,” Jeff greeted as Jared approached their truck.  
  
“What can I get for you?” Sam asked as she leaned against the truck. Samantha was the kind of woman Jared wished he could have had for a mother. She was a no-nonsense, tough as nails, true southern lady. Jared once saw her scold an embittered gang member for bad manners and wearing his pants too low and didn’t blink an eye when he threatened to shoot her. The next week he came back with his pants at an acceptable height for Sam and an apology. Sam and Jeff were sort of protected on the streets. If there was one rule on the streets, one thing people tried to follow, it was that you didn’t hurt good people. And there were none better than those two.  
  
“Just a sandwich, if you got any,” he said. “Please,” he added because this was Sam he was talking to.  
  
“Of course, sweetheart,” she drawled out her in sweet southern twang and handed him some food. “Need any condoms?” she casually asked. “I hear you got a boyfriend.”  
  
Jared blushed profusely, not used to kindly women being so openly blunt. “N-No,” he stammered, embarrassed by Sam’s motherly concern. “And he’s not my boyfriend, I think?” he said, not surprised at all that rumors about him and Jensen had spread this far.  
  
Sam gave him a sly smile and a pleased look that said she knew better. Jared wished it was true.  
  
“We were worried about you kid, seeing as you haven’t really been around.”  
  
Jared just shrugged in response. _It’s not unusual_ , he thought. Street kids came and went all the time, there one week, gone the next, some back home or jail, some six feet under. He watched the smile slip from Sam’s eyes, though, and knew this was something different.  
  
“Oh yeah?” he curiously asked.  
  
“There’s been a lot of disappearances lately,” Sam explained. “More so than usual. A lot of kids just vanishin’.”  
  
“What do you think’s happening to them?” he anxiously asked, eager to know if they knew anything of the looming threat hanging over the city.  
  
“There’s a new gang in town. The Regulators, they call themselves,” Sam said and she couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. The whole city knew her thoughts about gangs and how thoroughly she hated their existence. “Think they’ve been recruitin’ around here and startin’ trouble.”  
  
“I haven’t heard nothin,” Jared offered, trying to keep the conversation going so he could gleam more information from them.  
  
“Not surprised,” Jeff told him. “From what we’ve heard, they carry no identifying mark.”  
  
“Then how do you know it’s a gang?”  
  
“Things like that don’t just happen, honey,” Sam said. “Plus we are the center of gossip in this whole town. No information gets past us,” she lightly joked, lightening the mood a smidge.  
  
“You best be careful. With a boyfriend like you’ve managed to wrangle, you got a target on your back, son,” Jeff warned.  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Jared exasperatedly replied. “But I’ll be careful. Thanks.”  
  
The talk with Sam and Jeff left Jared unsettled, but the thought of going back to the house terrified him.  
  
He never went to work last night, never made any money and so had nothing to offer his pimp. His pimp did not let things like that slide. His rage was like a firework, exploding red hot in a violent flash of light and a thunderous boom, and then quickly fizzling out, but not before the damage had been done. Punishment would be doled out, whether it was a beating from his cane or his pimp was horny enough to fuck him. He hoped it was the later, because that bamboo cane fucking _hurt._  
  
Jake always collected the money in the morning, but when Jared finally found the courage to walk in the front door, his pimp was waiting for him, seated on the disgusting plaid couch that had seen the violation of too many young teens.  
  
“I…” Jared began, but quickly trailed off, not sure of what to say, what excuse could possibly get him out of this.  
  
“Save it,” his pimp coldly replied. “I already know you never showed up to work your corner last night.” He nodded his head slightly. Taking his cue, Jake grabbed Jared by the arm and dragged him closer to his tormenter. “Do you think you’re special, Jared?”  
  
“N-No,” Jared nervously stammered.  
  
“Do you think you’re irreplaceable? That I can’t find a dozen kids on the streets willing to take your place?” he calmly asked, posture rigid and piercing eyes focused on Jared.  
  
“N-No,” Jared stuttered again.  
  
“Then why do you think you can just take a day off?”  
  
“I…I didn’t mean to?” Jared lamely offered, too scared to come up with a better answer. He felt Jake tighten his grip on his arm and could see a smirk spread across the older teen’s face.  
  
“Well I guess that makes it okay if you didn’t mean to,” his pimp sarcastically replied and stood threateningly to his feet. He approached Jared and fisted his hands over the lapels of his stolen jacket. Jared gulped nervously.  
  
“I’m going to do you a favor, Jared. I’m going to let you off with a warning.” He let go of Jared’s jacket and smoothed his hands over the fabric. Jake frowned and gave an annoyed huff, but reluctantly let go of his arm. “See, I can be a very reasonable man.” An alarming smile graced his crooked face as he took a step back. Warily, Jared slowly backed up towards the stairs, never turning his back on the two men in the room.  
  
“I would be very careful of the next move you make,” his pimp threatened.  
  
Jared nodded dumbly before fleeing the room, running as fast as his feet could carry him up the stairs.  
  
He tiptoed into his room, shutting the door behind him and dragging the lone dresser in front of it. Vic and Kellin were fast asleep, curled tightly around one another, seeking safety that could not be found anywhere else.  
  
Jared sank onto his bed, terrified and trying desperately to catch his breath and slow his panicked breathing when he felt _it_ ; a great big lump beneath his shoddy mattress that would not be ignored. There would be no sleep for Jared today.  
  
Sighing in defeat, finally he pulled _Hamlet_ from beneath the mattress, opened it to the first page, and began to read.  
  
_ACT I_  
  
SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle…


	8. One More Time

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Violence, Rape of a minor  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER EIGHT: ONE MORE TIME**

“I’m just saying it’s possible!” Kellin enthusiastically yelled, throwing his arms out wide.  
  
“You’ve been smoking pot with Misha again, haven’t you?” Jared asked and threw Kellin a smirk. It was just the two of them at the corner on a lazy Sunday night. There was something about Sundays that kept customers away, not that Jared usually complained, but after Thursday night, he was still in deep shit with his pimp and needed the money. The fact that his boss and Jake hadn’t done anything terrified Jared more than if they had gotten the punishment done and over with. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for his pimp to change his mind and every day that nothing happened made Jared more and more anxious.  
  
“Billions of stars and an endless amount of space and you really think we’re alone in this universe? No fucking way.”  
  
“I didn’t say we were _alone,_ ” Jared retorted, “It’s just stupid to think we’ve ever been visited by another life form.”  
  
“Stupid!” Kellin practically screeched. “There is irrefutable proof, centuries of sightings, and the government is covering it up,” he heatedly protested.  
  
“Uh-huh. Suuuure. You think dozens of government people have managed to keep this secret for decades and there hasn't been a single whistleblower?” The conversation was not new, one they’d had dozens of times. But when you spent every night, hour after hour, with the same two people, conversation tended to become stilted and repetitive. Jared rather enjoyed arguing with Kellin, though. Kellin wasn’t just some dumb street kid, he knew things, paid attention in school when school was an option, and was very opinionated. Debating with Kellin passed the time, and was one of the rare things in Jared’s life he could look forward to.  
  
“I was abducted once,” Kellin insisted. That one was new to Jared. Their arguments were kind of a contest, one where they both tried to outdo one another and win the argument once and for all by any means necessary, except no one ever conceded defeat and they just kept going. They both knew by now not to take the other seriously and very rarely did tempers ever flare.  
  
“Really?” Jared sarcastically replied.  
  
“No, seriously, I was. They made me listen to crappy rap about fucking vaginas and then they made me suck wrinkly old cock.”  
  
“I think that was Jake and our pimp,” Jared said, eyeing an anxious potential customer across the street.  
  
“No, these guys had slimy purple skin and...and tentacles,” Kellin ludicrously exaggerated and waved his arms like they were boneless.  
  
“If this turns into tentacle porn, then I am out of here, consequences be damned,” he said, watching the anxious guy nervously flee down the road.  
  
“Interesting,” Kellin contemplated, “but no. They did have eyes that hypnotize.” He bugged out his eyes real wide and pointed to them.  
  
“Oh yeah? If they could hypnotize people, then why do you still remember them?”  
  
“Uh,” Kellin hesitated, “because they forgot to hypnotize me?”  
  
Jared raised his eyebrow and Kellin just shrugged. “I think that means I win,” Jared said.  
  
He watched Kellin turn a startling shade of red that bordered on purple, seemingly ready to explode in a long and amusing tirade of exactly why Jared had not won the argument, when a kind voice calling his name interrupted poor Kellin.  
  
“Jared, my sweet young love,” an unwanted voice called out. Flowers appeared before his eyes and a gentlemanly arm was proffered to him.  
  
“Reverend,” he countered with fake enthusiasm, barely hiding his disgust as he took the flowers and intertwined their arms.  
  
“I do wish you would call me by my name.”  
  
 _Not gonna happen_ , Jared thought. Instead, he offered a coy smile, trying to play off his insolence as shyness.  
  
“Ah, you’ll warm up to me,” the Reverend said and walked down the street with Jared, arm in arm, as if this was an afternoon stroll between two young lovers.  
  
The church wasn’t far from Jared’s corner; that was how he got on the Reverend’s radar in the first place. The pastor saw him wandering the streets and was ‘attracted to his innocent smile’, whatever the Hell that meant. Jared was far from innocent, and if there was a God, then no one knew better than Him the sins that he had committed.  
  
The sex, for Jared, was passionless, but nevertheless his body betrayed him and was gradually coaxed into enjoying the overwhelming sensations. He moaned into the Reverend’s fervent kisses, hardened beneath his gentle touch, and came with a gasp, Jensen’s name stuck on his tongue, longing to be released.  
  
Afterward, the Reverend held him close, cradled him like a baby, and ran his smooth hands over Jared’s bruised ribs. “You’re perfect,” he said and kissed Jared’s neck. “Even used and bruised, your innocence remains untouched,” the older man whispered into his skin as if it were a confessional.  
  
Jared rolled his eyes because he knew the Reverend could not see his face and remained defiantly quiet.  
  
“I would be so lonely if you stopped coming around.” The man of God nuzzled into his neck and held on tighter.  
  
 _I have nowhere else to go_ , Jared thought and subtly stretched his shoulders, loosening the Reverend’s tight hold.  
  
“No one wants to go to church anymore. Don’t feel they have to I guess,” the older man sighed. “Even my most loyal patron, a woman completely devoted to God, has failed to make an appearance these last few dreary weeks.” He shuffled Jared around, pulling his body flush against the Reverend’s and moving his hand lower to caress Jared’s inner thigh. He felt the man’s erection fill and harden, poking into his back. Jared suppressed a shudder and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
“But I know you’re faithful to me,” the Reverend said, one hand trailing across his flesh to grasp his uninterested penis. Jared could only hope it would be over quickly.  
  
He threw the flowers in the neighbor’s trash when the Reverend was finally satisfied, almost hoping the man would find them and finally get the message. Then he began the short walk back to his corner from the rundown church.  
  
Neither Vic nor Kellin were at the corner when Jared returned, but it wasn’t deserted either. There, under the bridge at the corner of 5th and Watson, a lone figure stood with hunched shoulders covered by a worn leather jacket.  
  
***  
  
Shy eyes stared up at him through long lashes before looking guiltily away. Nothing was immediately said by the awkward leader and Jared was not about to take pity on him and let him off easy by starting the conversation. “I’m,” Jensen eventually began and then cast a quick peek up at Jared, “sorry.”  
  
He couldn’t help it. The anger he had been so poorly trying to hold onto this last week melted away like ice cream on a hot summer day. “Was it me? Did I do something?” Jared needed to know.  
  
“It,” Jensen said and then never continued, just broke off into sort of a half shake of his head, half shrug. For the first time, Jared wasn’t quite sure what Jensen was trying to say. “Where did you get that burn on your wrist?”  
  
The question completely blindsided him. It was just a stupid burn. “It doesn’t matter,” Jared mumbled self-consciously and pulled his sweater down to cover it.  
  
“It’s important,” Jensen deadpanned in the same tone of voice he always used, but Jared could tell from the stiff set of his shoulders and the hardened, unfamiliar look in his eyes that this was serious.  
  
“From the Mayor,” he truthfully answered and resisted the urge to back away from the fire that flashed through Jensen’s vibrant eyes.  
  
“Why?” Jensen insisted.  
  
Jared flinched from the anger in his voice. He hesitated before answering, knowing this was important to Jensen but still hurt and angry himself. Had this whole thing really been over something so small, something so trivial? It was just another scar to add to the myriad of others already in his possession. Truly nothing to fret over.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared said. “I don’t know!” Jared insisted when he saw the older boy clench his hands into fists. “I’m a whore, Jensen. And once a week the Mayor pays me to do whatever the fuck he wants to. I don’t really get a say in the matter and I don’t get to ask why. If you can’t handle that, you should probably stop coming around.”  
  
Tension fled in the wake of remorse. Jensen’s expressive eyes refused to meet his. Jared didn’t like giving ultimatums, regretted the words before they even left his mouth, but he couldn’t keep getting jerked around like this.  
  
“It’s not,” Jensen began and then sighed. He always seemed so calm, so confident, but now he seemed to be stumbling over his words, unsure of what to say. Jared only hoped his next words wouldn’t be goodbye. “You’re not a whore.”  
  
“I’m not much else,” Jared disagreed with a deprecating laugh. Jared shrugged his shoulders and brushed it off, this was his life, and the only thing he could do with it was deal.  
  
But it was Jensen whose shoulders sagged as if the comment stung a bitter blow. “Come with me.”  
  
“What?! No! I can’t bail on work twice in one week! My pimp would slaughter me. Literally.”  
  
“You will be fine,” Jensen confidently replied as if the future was his to grasp and he already had all the answers. Tentatively, he offered his hand to Jared. “Trust me.”  
  
Jared didn’t want to, resisted the urge, but he trusted Jensen. Even though he had no reason at all to trust this teen who was barely more than a stranger, he did, completely. Jared sighed in defeat and took the proffered hand.  
  
“Where are we going?” he sighed in exasperation.  
  
Instead of an answer, Jensen gave him the closest thing to a playful smile that Jared had ever seen. Jared’s heart sped up.  
  
He followed obediently as Jensen led him deeper into Center City, to a place where the buildings were painted in vibrant colors and abstract murals covered the walls. A place otherwise known as Artists’ Alley.  
  
Artists’ Alley, unsurprisingly, wasn’t really an alley. It was, instead, a neighborhood of the city that housed the wannabe hippies, hipsters, and otherwise eccentric artists, from brilliant musicians, painters, sculptors, etcetera, etcetera, to the demented person who thought peeing on a white canvas was art. A cloud of pot smoke seemed to deliberately linger over the small and poor section of town and there wasn’t a single person in the neighborhood who didn’t know Misha.  
  
At one corner, the unofficial entrance to the unusual neighborhood, a mini replica of the statue of liberty stood as an apt symbol for the masses crammed into the tiny apartments.  
  
 _“Give me your tired, your poor,  
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,  
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  
Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tost to me,  
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”_  
  
Carved into the cement of the sidewalks, the foundation of the very city, the sacred poem was a motto of all here. Everyone was welcome, from every walk of life, every race, religion, color, idea, every eccentric, every belief. No one judged here, mostly because they were too focused on their own lives and too damn high to care about the actions of others. It was penned in on all sides by hatred and castigation (a wealthy neighborhood to the North that looked down on everyone, an ethnic neighborhood with problems of their own to the South, industry to the East and businesses who did not want their kind in their stores to the West), but the neighborhood muddled on, oblivious and unconcerned with the thoughts of others. A time capsule of hope in an otherwise hopeless city.  
  
There was a small strip of the neighborhood where day after day the artists sold their work, whether it was a performance, CD, or something created with their hands; their art stood proudly on display, no matter how it was made, any time of the day. It was a never ending market, a smorgasbord of creativity that Jared had never really had the opportunity, or reason, to explore.  
  
Jensen hadn’t let go of his hand yet, despite the fact that Jared’s palm was starting to sweat in a mixture of nerves and excitement. His hand tingled where they touched; a warmth was shared between them. It was nice, pleasantly so, and Jared knew he could definitely get used to this, this feeling of being happy, of belonging.  
  
There was an almost childlike wonderment written on Jensen’s face as the older boy tried to take it all in. There were lights strung from the buildings, a rainbow flag flapping in the wind. A young woman with long black hair and ruby red lips was handing out CDs on the corner, and booths were set up with everything from paintings painstakingly created with every detail imaginable to hand carved toys, knitted blankets and scarves, handmade jewelry and so much more. To their left was a mural of a baby bird taking its first flight amongst a field of flowers. As they walked down the street, taking in the sights, they passed a mime with his face painted blue who followed them until Jensen turned to glare at him. Then he faked a heart attack and ambled quickly in the other direction. Standing stock still between a stand that sold beads of every shape, size, and color and a stand that sold knitted hats, was an incredibly lifelike golden statue. Jared stepped closer to the amazing piece of art, admiring the detail when suddenly it moved!  
  
“It’s breathing!” Jared gasped and jerked backwards from the statue. It made no other movement, though, besides the subtle rise and fall of its chest. “That’s incredible.”  
  
Jensen chuckled, an extremely short burst of laughter that seemed uncertain and rusty from disuse, and it startled not only Jared, but Jensen as well. It was the first time Jared had ever heard the other teen laugh. Jensen blushed furiously.  
  
Jared’s face lit up. He tightened his hold on the gang leader’s hand and with a hop in his step, continued down the street. They stopped and looked at everything Jared was interested in, with Jared providing most of the commentary.  
  
“He looks like a beached whale flopping around stage,” he commented on a one man show with drums, singing, and interpretive dancing.  
  
“I agree,” Jensen said and cocked his head to the right as if he was trying to understand the odd performance.  
  
“Ah, this is amazing!” Jared giddily complimented an artist for a drawing of Marilyn Monroe made entirely with pen. “I can’t believe this was all done with a pen!”  
  
“Thank you,” the artist replied. “Tell your friends!” he said and handed Jared a business card.  
  
They passed a stand selling what Jared thought was supposed to be food, but smelled like a rotting corpse. “Ugh” Jared gagged. “I think what I vomited the other day smelled better.”  
  
“It’s actually quite good,” Jensen said.  
  
Jared could only stare incredulously at him. “You’re kidding right?” Jensen half shrugged and started blushing again. “Oh my God! You are kidding!” He lightly punched the older teen in the arm and immediately felt the flinch. “Sorry,” Jared immediately apologized.  
  
Jensen looked away, the look of shame he’d seen before, once more coloring his features. “It’s okay,” he shrugged.  
  
Jared was determined to not let this ruin their date. “Look at that!” he redirected and dragged Jensen by their still conjoined hands to what looked like putrid filth. It was literally a sculpture of garbage and smelled like it too. The artist was, unsurprisingly, a homeless man sitting next to a dumpster.  
  
“It looks like he just grabbed things randomly out of the trash and pasted them together,” he whispered to Jensen.  
  
“I think that’s exactly what he did,” Jensen conspiratorially whispered back. Despite the smell and the lack of quality, Jensen still nodded to that artist and added a few bills to the man’s tip jar. “Nevertheless,” Jensen said, “he put time and effort into his art and he thinks it’s worthy. That’s all that matters.”  
  
“Is that why you like art so much?” Jared curiously asked. “Because the only opinion that matters is yours?”  
  
“Only in art can we confidently express what we cannot put into words,” Jensen replied. “Even writers use their plots and characters as a clever disguise of their true self.”  
  
“I never thought of it that way before,” Jared said, and gave the pile of trash a second look. In the right light and the right frame of mind, there was beauty in the garbage. “But I think you’re right.”  
  
It was the most Jensen had ever spoken and it was insightful and beautiful, the words of a gentle heart. Even hardened criminals were still human. And Jared wasn’t so sure Jensen was hardened.  
  
The delicious scent of baked goods, flour, cinnamon, and spice filled the open air. Jared’s stomach rumbled and grumbled loudly.  
  
Jensen nodded his head towards the origin of the delightful smell. It was a small stand with a wide variety of baked goods lined up neatly together. There were pies and breads, cookies and candies, each homemade with the most pleasant aroma. A little old lady, plump around the middle, with the most kind and inviting face, stood the stand, next to the desserts that were quickly selling off the single shelf. Jared’s stomach gave another loud rumble, but he shook his head and resisted as Jensen led him toward the kindly woman. He didn’t want Jensen to feel like he had to buy him things.  
  
Jensen either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way Jared ended up staring down into the plump woman’s kind eyes.  
  
“Jensen! You have brought new friend!” she excitedly exclaimed in an accent Jared thought might have been Russian, but couldn’t tell for sure. She grabbed a bewildered Jensen by the shoulders, pulling him away from Jared, and kissed both of the older teen’s cheeks. For an old woman, she had quite a bit of strength left in her. “I do that every time!” she jovially told Jared. “He always look like little puppy.”  
  
Jared joined in her laughter as Jensen stood by his side, expressionless and fearsome as always, but with just a hint of fond exasperation tugging at the corners of his lips.  
  
“What can I get for you today?” the woman asked and gestured to her treats.  
  
“Only what my date would like,” Jensen politely responded. _Date?_ Jared liked that, he liked that a lot.  
  
“Nonsense!” the plump woman shouted. “You too skinny. You need to eat more.”  
  
Jared couldn’t deny how famished he was, but was too shy to ask for anything. “Nothing for me,” he meekly squeaked.  
  
“I will hear of no such thing!” the woman demanded. “You too skinny, too,” she said and poked a plump finger into Jared’s ribs. “You take this.” She handed both Jensen and Jared a loaf of Zucchini bread. “And this,” she said, putting cookies into their arms.  
  
Jensen thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a few crisp bills.  
  
“For you? No charge,” the woman demanded and lightly pushed his hand away.  
  
“Maria,” Jensen said in a lightly chastising tone.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Maria conceded. “I accept.” She grabbed Jensen’s wrist as he handed her the bills and pulled him into a quick hug. Jensen’s shoulders tensed and a wince flashed across his face, but that did not deter Maria. “You take good care of him,” Maria told Jared.  
  
“I will,” Jared solemnly promised.  
  
“Good, good. Now go.” She ushered them away. “Enjoy.”  
  
The bread tasted as good as it smelled. As they sat on a bench in the festive street, Jared devoured the entire thing in a few bites and he was heartened to see Jensen nibble on his cookies.  
  
“That was the greatest thing I have ever put in my mouth,” Jared excitedly said as he stuffed his mouth with the cookies.  
  
“We can always return?”  
  
“Definitely,” he answered the unspoken question. A chorus of bells was ringing in the wind; the lights strung across the buildings sparkled in their eyes. Somewhere in the distance, a violin was playing a slow melody. He took Jensen’s hand, met his startled eyes and moved his lips forward, only to meet nothing but air as a violent shake rattled the bench.  
  
“Sorry, man,” a very drunk man slurred before stumbling down the street.  
  
 _Damnit_ , Jared thought. _There goes the perfect moment._  
  
“We should go,” Jensen interrupted his thoughts. “It’s past sunrise.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Jared reluctantly agreed. The older boy led him out of Artist’s alley, but not before something caught his eye. It was a wall covered in posters. At first Jared thought it was another piece of artwork, but as they got closer, he saw the wall was covered in pictures and posters, many of which said ‘MISSING’ on the top.  
  
“What is this?”  
  
“The Mourning Mural,” Jensen answered with a sigh. “It’s where people post pictures of the loved ones they’ve lost, whether by tragedy, or they simply disappeared.  
  
Jared scanned the photos, many showing happy, smiling faces. All of them were gone? He hoped one day, at least a few of them were returned to their loved ones.  
  
***  
  
His hand still tingled where they had touched. Like a true gentleman that Jared was beginning to think he was, Jensen walked him all the way home. The older teen’s hand had gently caressed the bruise on his check and again, they had come so close to kissing only to fall short. His heart wanted to explode and his voice wanted to be heard from the rooftops. Jared was pretty sure this is what falling in love felt like.  
  
He floated up the steps to the house after watching Jensen stroll away, pretty sure that nothing could temper his good mood, not even what he was sure was waiting for him once he entered the front door. He still did not get that elusive first kiss, but any time with Jensen was well worth the punishment he would incur from his pimp.  
  
Or so he thought.  
  
When he opened the front door, the sight that greeted him was one Jared thought he would never see.  
  
Vic was pinned to the couch, the same couch every whore in the house received their ‘initiation’ on. His hands were tied above his head and tears were running from his eyes. Their pimp was sitting on his legs, holding Vic down with a knife to his throat. The rest of the residents of the house were huddled in a circle around the living room, most were antsy, shuffling from foot to foot and they all seemed nervous, scared. Jared pushed his way through the anxious crowd.  
  
With bloody knuckles and a smug smirk, Jake had a small body pinned to the floor and was mercilessly beating them with worn knuckles. The face was almost unrecognizable, battered black and blue. Blood was running from their nose, mouth and cuts on both of their cheeks. Both eyes were swollen shut and wet, wheezing noises and groans of pain were being forced from the poor boy.  
  
Jared would know that boy anywhere.“Kellin!” he gasped and rushed forward without thinking.  
  
“Ah ah ah!” his pimp chastised. Jake rose from the ground and grabbed Jared by the arms, effectively restraining him. “Look everyone, the star has finally arrived.”  
  
A low primal growl escaped from Jared before he lowered his eyes in submission to the man who owned him.  
  
“As I was just telling the others, I’ve seen a distinct lack of effort from you boys,” he announced, staring only at Jared. “And when you boys are lazy, I don’t see a profit. And that makes me very angry.”  
  
He stood from his perch on the couch, freeing Vic, and kicked Kellin in the chest. Kellin curled into a ball, too injured to even cry out in pain. Vic immediately slid from the couch and with his bound hands gathered his boyfriend into his arms.  
  
Still staring straight at Jared, the pimp said, “I think you all need to learn a lesson.”  
  
He spun on his heels and turned to grab Vic by his hair, forcing him away from Kellin. He threw Vic onto the couch and yanked his pants down to his ankles.  
  
“Don’t!” Jared cried and struggled against Jake’s restraint.  
  
“My, my,” their pimp replied. “Haven’t we grown brave.”  
  
“N-no,” Jared stuttered and lowered his eyes. “Take me instead. Please,” he insisted. This was his fault, Jared knew it. This was all his fault.   
  
“That’s just not an option.”  
  
He averted his eyes and let his own tears fall, as grunts and cries filled the stale air.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world’s most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Brief mention of rape and violence  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

The scent of sex and blood lingered, thick and heavy, in the stale air. A heavy silence settled over them. It was dark around the edges of the room, but a bloody tableau was spotlighted in the center of the room.  
  
 _What…what just happened?_  
  
The room slowly emptied. Their pimp strutted smugly from the couch. “I think we’ve all learned our lesson,” he proudly said and patted a stunned Jared on the cheek. One by one, their heads weighed down with shame, the whores followed, until only four of them were left. Too shocked to believe this really could have happened, Jared stood rooted to the spot, unable and unwilling to move and find out this wasn't really just a dream.  
  
 _Gasp…cough, cough…wheeze…_  
  
“It should’ve been you,” Jake’s voice said. Reality slapped him in the face hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.  
  
 _I know,_ Jared thought, but kept his head hung and his mouth shut.  
  
 _Gasp…wheeze…....……gasp…_  
  
“If it wasn’t for Jensen’s protection, it would have been you.”  
  
His next breath stuck in his throat. The statement shook him, but he didn’t show it, couldn’t if he tried. His chest heaved with the effort to draw in air.  
  
“W-what?”  
  
 _Gasp….......….……wheeze… “Kellin,” sob, “don’t…”_  
  
“You think you’re so special, you think there’s something better out there, but you’re just a whore. You’ll always be just a whore.”  
  
Jake solemnly left the room. For the fourth time in his short life, Jared's entire world shattered.  
  
The bloody tableau still stood before him: a devastated young man crying tears of anguish as he rocked the body of his dying lover. Kellin gasped, wheezed, and then fell silent, still.  
  
“NO!” Vic’s devastated cry tore through the stillness like the cry of a wounded wolf. It tore Jared from his shock and he fell to his knees next to the tragic scene. Vic’s eyes stared at him desperate and pleading, terrified.  
  
Jared had watched his father pass away from cancer. He'd known the minute it was over, but it still took four long days for his heart to stop beating and his father to finally be at peace. There at the end, in his final hours, his father’s eyes were glazed over, skin ice cold, extremities slowly turning purple and his chest haltingly jerked with each forced breath.  
  
He looked just like Kellin did now.  
  
He crawled forward on his knees to the still form of his friend and reached out to feel for a heartbeat, but a hand slapped him away.  
  
“Don’t touch him!” a scathing voice hissed. Vic's terrified eyes turned to burning fury. He clutched his boyfriend tighter to his chest and pulled Kellin away from Jared’s outstretched hand.  
  
“He needs a hospital,” Jared tried to reason.  
  
“So, I’ll take him to one,” Vic angrily spat.  
  
“I can help,” Jared pleaded.  
  
“We don’t need your help.”  
  
“Vic…”  
  
“No!” he shouted and pushed Jared away. “I told you this would happen! I told you to stay away from Jensen and you wouldn’t! This is all your fault!” he sobbed. "You've taken away the only thing that meant something to me."  
  
“I’m…”  
  
“I don’t want to hear it!” Vic screamed. He held Kellin tightly in his arms, guarding him closely. “Just leave!”  
  
“You need help,” Jared argued.  
  
“Go!” Vic yelled.  
  
Jared did. He left. Vic was right. This was his fault and he had no right to stay after what had happened, after the damage and devastation he'd caused. Just before he fled out the front door, he hesitated and turned for one more look at the sobbing boy gently cradling his brutally beaten boyfriend. Vic’s pain was raw, a stab wound with the knife still sticking in it, twisting, wrenching, scarring. This was on Jared. Street kids like him knew better than to believe in something better.  
  
But Jared just never learned.  
  
***  
  
Not for the first time, Jared felt like walking – away from everything he’d ever known, to a place where he finally belonged and felt wanted -finally free from the chains of his past. He felt like running – down the street, past the city limits and to the ocean- far away from his problems. He felt like a baby bird on the edge of the nest, waiting to dive off and take flight for the first time.  
  
Only he never took that final step. There was no place to run. The grass was not greener on the other side, because there was no other side. There was nothing better, and nothing worse, than where he already was. Wherever he ran to, his problems would only follow and new ones would only arise and Jared would be in the exact same position he’d always been in….alone.  
  
He ended up at the pier hours and hours later, with no idea how he got there or where he’d been since he left the whore house. This was the place he took Jensen on their first date, this was his solace, his comfort zone, the only place he had left to go.  
  
He lied down on the pier and huddled in on himself and, with the bitter wind whipping across his chilled skin, fell fast asleep.  
  
He woke sometime during the night, confused and disoriented. The moon was high in the sky and his skin was so chilled he couldn’t feel his hands or feet. Shivering, he rubbed them together, but couldn’t make them warm again.  
  
He didn’t deserve to be warm anyways.  
  
His mother always told him he was worthless. He was starting to think maybe she was right.  
  
Something soft and warm was placed gently over him and for the first time, Jared noticed he was not alone. A quiet figure was sitting crossed legged next to him.  
  
He jerked into a sitting position and backed away until his numb mind recognized the person.  
  
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.”  
  
His visitor gave him a lopsided grin.  
  
“If anything, it would be the other way around,” Misha responded as he flicked his cigarette butt into the calm sea. “You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” he said. Once more he was homeless, hapless, abandoned, and with no one to blame but himself.  
  
Misha’s shoulders slumped.  
  
“I know about Vic and Kellin.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
It was hours after the incident and he didn’t even know if his friends were still alive. His heart twisted painfully. Misha was wrong. Jared really fucked up this time. “Did- did you know? About Jensen’s protection?”  
  
“Everyone knows,” he shrugged and lit the cigarette. “It’s kind of obvious.”  
  
“I didn’t.” Jared turned away from Misha. “I didn’t know and I should have. I would have been more careful, I wouldn’t have skipped work, I wouldn’t have…None of this should have happened.”  
  
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything.” Misha pushed Jared so hard he fell flat on his back and then Misha lied down on the pier next to him. Most of the stars were obscured by the city’s pollution and what few could be seen were covered by clouds, but Misha still stared up into the night sky as if he could see every last one of them, out to the very end of the universe. "It would have happened no matter what you did."  
  
"I don't believe you," Jared whispered and curled into a ball on his side.  
  
Misha sighed sadly.  
  
"Remember when I told you that there was more going on in this city than you knew?"  
  
"Yeah?" Jared miserably sniffled and flopped onto his back so he could pitifully stare at the only friend he had left.  
  
"The balance of power has shifted,” Misha explained, but Jared didn’t know what that meant. “War’s coming. Sooner or later we were all going to be swept up in the catastrophe.”  
  
“A gang war?”Jared curiously asked.  
  
“Something a little more important than that. ”  
  
“I think you’re being a little over-dramatic,” Jared sighed and curled into Misha’s warmth.  
  
Misha smirked. “Maybe.”  
  
“You just like fucking with me, don’t you?”  
  
"I don't know, you puked before I could try," he said and threw Jared a wry grin. Jared really wished he could remember that drunken night at the thrift store better.  
  
"You should leave," Misha said after a few moments of silent contemplation.  
  
"No," Jared petulantly argued and hugged Misha closer.  
  
"It's dangerous here," Misha insisted.  
  
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked Misha with a yawn.  
  
"Working."  
  
"You're a prostitute working an abandoned pier?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay," Jared sarcastically said and yawned again as his eyes drifted closed.  
  
"You need to leave," he heard Misha say from someplace far away. "It's not safe for you to be alone."  
  
But Jared ignored him and fell fast asleep. He was just so tired.  
  
But he really should have listened to Misha because the next time he woke, there were three large men staring down at him as if he was their prize.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world's two most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Mentions of violence and a ton of curse words, beware the curse words!  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

A feeling of unsettlement woke Jared up in the early hours of the morning. Misha and the warmth he provided were long gone, but Jared knew he was not alone. He dared not open his eyes, but still felt an eerie presence lurking over him, blocking out the rising sun.  
  
Something cold, hard, and metal poked him in the side. "Get up," a gruff voice demanded.  
  
Carefully, he opened his eyes.  
  
There were three of them staring at him, of different heights and ethnicities. The shortest of the group, but still clearly the leader, was a young tan-skinned man who couldn't have been more than 22, with a disgusted scowl on his face and a metal bat clutched tightly in his hands. He wore the colors the Ghost Brigade used to wear in the days before Jensen swooped in and changed everything. A disgruntled ex-gang member with a possible grudge against Jensen did not bode well for Jared if the man were to ever find out who he really was.  
  
His two lackeys didn't seem to belong with this man, though. They were white and dressed more for the farm than anything else. Both had the mark of a former neo-nazi gang tattooed onto their arms. That particular gang had fizzled out and died when Jared was still just in middle-school. They had gotten into a beef with the Street Warriors and the former Ghost Brigade, whom all but eradicated the racist group of rednecks. One day, nearly four years ago, their leader had been dragged into the street in broad daylight and shot execution style right between the eyes at a parade, next to a float full of little pageant girls.  
  
The girls, needless to say, were traumatized and the gang was never heard of again. And despite all the police on patrol during the festivities, the killer was never caught.  
  
It was unlikely that these three very different people would ever naturally become acquaintances, especially since the two lackeys were giving their ‘leader’ a look of disdain. He remembered what Jeff said about rumors of a new gang, the Regulators, having no identifying mark, but Jared had a hard time believing this ragtag band of violent misfits could ever possibly form a working gang. They'd all kill each other first, before ever getting anything productive done.  
  
"Didn't you hear me, stupid, get up!" the leader yelled and kicked Jared in the chest.  
  
Jared hurriedly scrambled to his feet.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing in our territory?" one of the rednecks politely asked.  
  
"I was unaware that it belonged to you," Jared replied with more bravado than he felt.  
  
"You better get the fuck out of here before we make you," the same redneck responded, spit flying from his mouth. Jared flinched.  
  
"Wait, I've got a better idea," the leader said, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "I say we teach him a lesson first."  
  
"The boss won't like that," the last member spoke. He was looking around nervously as if he was waiting for their boss to pop out from under the pier.  
  
“He doesn’t need to know,” the short man said. “Come on boys, let’s have some fun.”  
  
The two rednecks looked like they wanted to disagree, but the promise of violence and the appeal of beating the shit out of Jared apparently outweighed their distaste for the young Hispanic man.  
  
“I hate whores more than I hate you!” the louder of the two rednecks shouted to the Hispanic man.  
  
“Let’s just make this quick,” the third, nervous member said, killing Jared’s last hope of escaping this unharmed.  
  
The former Ghost Brigade member swung his metal bat in a racing arch towards Jared’s head. Jared squeezed his eyes shut and waited and waited and waited for the pain to come, but the blow never landed. Instead he heard what sounded like metal hitting metal, before hearing something hard striking flesh and then a thud as something hit the ground.  
  
He opened one eye just a hair, wide enough to see the leader lying sprawled on the ground, bleeding from a cut to his head. A look of terror passed across the rednecks’ faces before they took off running.  
  
“After them,” a female voice said. Four men armed with bats, knives, and guns took off after Jared’s attackers. He heard a whack, a scream, and two shots off in the distance before everything fell silent again.  
  
Jared finally opened his eyes the rest of the way to see a beautiful teenage girl standing on the pier. Her hands were on her hips, full breasts popping out of her too tight top and skinny jeans showing off her assets. She had a cocky smirk on her face and a confidence in the set of her shoulders. Her long brown hair whipped in the wind, and everything about her spoke of having no fear. The two large men flanking her may have had something to do with that, though.  
  
“You can pick your jaw off the floor, sweetie,” she said in the sexiest British accent he’d ever heard. She sauntered towards him, hips swaying, but his eyes were transfixed on her perfect, bouncing boobs. “Name’s Lauren, Lauren Cohan,” she said and reached out her perfectly manicured hand for Jared to shake.  
  
Still in shock, he shook her hand without even thinking about it. “Jared,” he somehow managed to stutter out, still staring at the beautiful woman before him. But then the word Cohan finally penetrated his brain. The Cohans were a notorious Irish mob family that ran the Street Warriors. And Lauren, if Jared recalled correctly, was the only child of the ailing leader, the next in line to take over the gang. He was once more just a tiny ant, staring in the face of a very powerful opponent.  
  
“I know,” she said with a Cheshire smile. “I don’t waste my precious time saving just anyone.”  
  
“What do you want with me?” he cautiously asked and took an unconscious step backward. He felt the back of his shoes hit the edge of the pier.  
  
“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m not here to harm you. I’ve got a proposition for you,” she stepped closer to Jared, so close her perky boobs rubbed against his jacket. “Join the Street Warriors.”  
  
“Uh, um, what?” he stupidly stuttered, not believing his ears. Leaders of one of the city’s most powerful gangs did not come up to lowly prostitutes and personally ask them to join their gang. People like Lauren did not get their hands dirty like that.  
  
“I’m offering you an escape, Jared, a chance to make something better of your life. And I can protect you, you and your friends, unlike some other people that we both know.”  
  
His immediate thought was to refuse her offer. He didn’t know her, didn’t trust her and he owed it to both himself and Jensen to find out where this thing between the two of them was headed. But then he thought back to Vic and Kellin. If something like what their pimp had just done could happen once, it could happen again and he owed them.  
  
“What’s in it for you?” he asked instead of answering.  
  
She smiled her Cheshire grin again, perfect white teeth glinting in the rising sun. “The same thing Jensen wants.”  
  
“I don’t….”  
  
“Know what I’m talking about? Of course not, sweetie,” she said in her sultry voice and laid a hand on his wrist. “So what’ll it be, hun?”  
  
“I…I…”  
  
“Fuck off, slut,” a loud, exuberant voice resounded through the quiet pier. “You’re such a fucking cunt.”  
  
Lauren’s face turned to vinegar, the grin and glint sliding from her ersatz face.  
  
“Hello to you to, brother,” she sourly said, stepping away from Jared and turning to face the interloper  
.  
“Half-brother,” someone disgustedly replied.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”  
  
“Bitch,” the intruder replied as the person the voice belonged to finally stepped forward. He saw a mop of unruly blonde hair first, followed by leather clad shoulders. He was tall and lanky and looked absolutely nothing like the short spitfire that was apparently his sister. He was closely followed by the scary dude, the guy that threatened to hang him from a flagpole by his underwear if he ever hurt Jensen. There was a face he did not recognize with short dirty blonde hair and then, his heart stuttered to life, there was Jensen.  
  
“Oh, it’s you,” Lauren said as if Jensen was the dirt beneath her shoes.  
  
“Say that again. I dare you,” the scary dude growled. One of Lauren’s body guard’s took a threatening step forward and all three of Jensen’s men flexed their muscles and stood protectively in front of their leader. One look from Jensen, though, and they immediately backed off.  
  
“You killed my best general,” Lauren spat at the Ghost Brigade leader.  
  
“He shouldn’t have touched what was mine,” Jensen casually replied with the same dead eyes and dead tone. His presence commanded respect and yet he seemed aloof and uninterested all at the same time.  
  
Lauren’s two bodyguards were clearly just that: hired arms to keep the heir apparent safe. But every one of Jensen’s men protectively stood around him, ready to defend him at any given moment. They clearly cared about him a great deal. Jared was more awed by this mysterious teen than he had ever been before, and more curious.  
  
“I don’t know why you hang around this…crew,” she said disdainfully to the vociferous blonde.  
  
“You know why, you back stabbing bitch.”  
  
“Ooh, feisty,” she said and put her hands on her hips again, hoisting her boobs into the air.  
  
The said blonde stepped threateningly towards his half-sister. He towered over the tiny brunette. “When this is all over, sister,” he mockingly said the last word, “you better watch your back.”  
  
“Those are some big words, for a little man,” she goaded.  
  
Lauren’s brother growled low in his throat. His hands clenched into fists.  
  
“Enough,” a voice he had not heard before said. It was the new face. “We did not come here to fight.”  
  
“No,” she replied and gave a pleased smile, “you just came here for your tool.”  
  
“Back off,” Lauren’s half-brother growled. “Go crawl back to your hole, Satan.”  
  
“You’re right,” Lauren smirked, “what do I really know about it? I’m not really the Mayor’s type after-all now am I?”  
  
Jared felt the barb cut straight through to his heart.  
  
“You fucking bitch,” he heard Lauren’s half-brother snarl. He was surprised to see everyone but Jensen’s face twisted in rage. “If we didn’t need you, you would be dead where you stand.”  
  
“How comforting,” she derided. “Come on boys,” she said and gestured to her men. “Let’s go. There’s nothing interesting here.” Lauren sashayed away, hips seductively swaying, but before she left she said this, “think about my offer, sweetie,” she whispered in Jared’s ear. “I promise not to use you, unlike, well…” she let the sentence lie, but the implications were obvious.  
  
Jared stood dumbfounded. Misha had been right. War was coming and Jared had found himself smack dab in the middle of it.  
  
 _What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_


	11. My So-Called Life

**Summary:** History would remember this tale as the rise of two of the world's two most notorious criminals, but to them it was a story of love forged between two broken teenagers that lasted a lifetime.  
 ****

 **Warnings (Chapter Specific):** a few curse words, mentions of off screen violence  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: MY SO-CALLED LIFE**

Jared did not intend to look like a giant pussy in front of Jensen and his friends so soon in their fragile relationship, but 15 minutes after Jensen showed up at the pier, Jared was crying his eyes out like a child in front of a sociopath attempting to kidnap him. He blamed the shock of the whole situation, and the flooding relief that he wasn’t about to get his ass kicked that lead to the tears, but whatever _it_ was, he couldn’t hold back.  
  
He’d been fine at first, perhaps a little numb and so tuned out of reality that he couldn’t remember a single thing that was said between Jensen and his companions. He remembers his fingers were shaking, or was it his whole body? Goosebumps crawled up his arms. Disorientation rendered him defenseless. And then the first tear came as he held his unsteady hands in front of his face, examining them just to prove he was trembling. Jensen knew. Prior to even Jared knowing he was breaking down and falling to pieces, Jensen just knew. He placed a heavy hand on Jared’s shoulder and steered him away from three pairs of scrutinizing eyes.  
  
Before Jared was even aware that they were moving, Jensen’s hand was pushing down on his shoulder. His knees buckled and he landed hard on a rusty bench that cracked under his weight, the old wood creaking in protest.  
  
He broke down crying into his hands then and told Jensen everything that had happened since he last saw the older teen, about what his pimp had done to Vic and Kellin and about the strange trio on the pier that almost kicked the shit out of him. Strangely, and he didn’t know why, but he left out what Lauren had said to him.

  
Jensen was silent, but offered his comfort with the strong hand still placed on Jared’s shoulder. When Jared calmed and his tears finally stopped, Jensen squeezed his shoulder and said, “I’ll take care of it.”  
  
He disappeared then, off to have a private conversation with the boys who had accompanied him to the pier, leaving Jared cold, alone and miserable on the rickety bench.  
  
They talked for a while; the new face with the dirty blonde hair was doing most of the talking, while the scary dude kept flashing angry eyes towards Jared. He could see, even from a distance, the respect that the two of them had for Jensen. The guy with the dirty blonde hair liked to talk with his hands, he noticed, and the three of them seemed to be planning something, heads bowed intimately together. They listened intently as Jensen spoke, and even though Jared could tell from their body language that the other two boys didn’t necessarily like what he was saying, neither argued. The scary dude turned dark eyes towards Jared again and stared directly at him. He flinched away from the intense glare.  
  
“Don’t mind, Chris, dude,” a voice startled him, “he’s just a very protective asshole.” Lauren’s half-brother plopped down on the bench next to Jared, arms spread wide along the back of it. Jared had forgotten he was there. “He thinks there’s some sort of complicated scheme going on behind those dopey eyes of yours. I just think you’re stupid.”  
  
Jared stared dumbfounded at him, unsure of how to respond to that comment. He hadn’t met anyone quite like this kid before. Streets kids, well you were there, but you didn’t really exist. Saying what you really thought got you beat up, or worse, killed. Honesty was the same thing as suicide. But this teen had no qualms about it, just laid it all out there and didn’t really give a shit what Jared thought and he certainly didn’t give two shits before laying into the heir of one of the most powerful gangs in town. Maybe he thought himself invincible, or worse, beyond caring about the consequences. That was the most dangerous kind of person. Jared could only imagine how the vociferous blonde had come to know Jensen, and if he really was the son of the leader of the Street Warriors, what had led him to be so faithful to a rival gang?  
  
“Don’t worry, dude, that was a compliment,” the other teen said after the only response Jared could muster was a dead stare.  
  
 _“Okay?”_ Jared hesitantly replied, but couldn't recall if he actually said the words out loud or only in his head.  
  
The newcomer grinned at him, a Cheshire grin much like his half-sister’s. Jared found himself warming up to his smile though; it was honest, in a way he hadn’t seen on anyone since before his mother started doing drugs. He rather liked this strange teen.  
  
“Name’s Mad Chad,” he introduced himself, unperturbed by Jared’s silence.  
  
“Why do they call you that?” Jared cautiously queried, finally finding his voice.  
  
“Cuz he’s bat shit crazy,” the scary dude, he now knew as Chris, interjected.  
  
“He’s right,” Chad said and winked at Jared. Jared offered a tenuous smile in return.  
  
“Chad, come, we have business to attend to,” Chris said looking pointedly at Jared.  
  
“I am not your fucking dog, asshole,” Chad snapped, but without any real malice.  
  
“Nope, you’re just my bitch.” Chris gave Chad a feral grin. Jared didn’t quite like his smile as much as he did Chad’s. “Oh wait, that does make you my dog. Now let’s go.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever,” Chad said and dramatically rolled his eyes. “Jared, man, catch you later.” He lightly punched Jared on the arm and hopped off the bench. He blew past Chris, who scowled at his retreating back, and made a beeline to Jensen. Jared watched transfixed as Chad threw an arm around the guy with the dirty blonde hair and said something to Jensen that had the Ghost Brigade leader turning his head straight towards Jared.  
  
 _“I don’t know,”_ he saw Jensen’s mouth form the words, even if he couldn’t hear them. Chad’s only response was a glare and what might have been an exaggerated whine of _‘come on, dude,’_ which had some sort of effect, for then he saw Jensen nod and say what might have been _‘alright.’_  
  
Chad beamed at the other teen, and then bounced away and threw himself onto the scary dude’s back, who merely shook his head at the other teen’s antics and readily accepted his weight, as he carried the teen, piggy back style, away from the pier.  
  
“One day I’ll cut her fucking boobs off,” he heard Chad wistfully say as Chris carried him away. Presumably he was talking about his sister. “Then I’ll make her eat them. See how she likes having those fucking things in her face.”  
  
Chris just shook his head and laughed a little. It was the first time Jared had seen anything other than bitterness on the man’s face. He almost looked human.  
  
Jared felt his heart ache. He wished he had that sort of trust and level of friendship with, well, with anyone. He wished he knew just one person, like Chad, who wasn’t so corrupted by the world that all they had left was a bitter hate and a black hole where there dreams used to be. He was reminded yet again of how alone he really was in this world.  
  
Jared hoped that one day maybe Chad would consider him a friend, too.  
  
“I am sorry,” Jensen’s voice startled him from his wishful thinking.  
  
“About what?” he turned confused eyes towards the gang leader.  
  
“That I did not get here sooner. That your friends were hurt.”  
  
“You couldn’t have known,” he sighed dejectedly. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” He reached out to grab Jensen’s hand, needing the physical connection to ground him in the chaotic vortex of his troubled thoughts. Jensen winced at the touch, but let Jared hold onto him, which said more than any words possibly could. Jared felt a small tendril of happiness for the first time in days, confident in the knowledge that Jensen truly did like him. _Jensen isn't using me,"_ he thought. _Lauren has to be wrong. She just has to be._  
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Jared greedily lapping up the comfort Jensen was offering. The other teen grew steadily more distressed, though, with each passing moment and began to fidget uncomfortably. In the right lighting, Jared was sure that a faint blush was spreading across the leader's face.  
  
“Uh-um,” Jensen painfully stuttered, “would…” he sighed heavily seemingly unable to find the words he wanted to say, “would you like to have dinner? With me…now?”  
  
Jared reigned in his short bark of laughter before it could escape past his chapped lips; it would not do to make his maybe boyfriend think he was insulting his awkwardness. “Now?” he asked instead. “It’s a little early for dinner.”  
  
Jensen gave him that almost smile again, the one that almost reached his haunted eyes. “Less people to bother us then.”  
  
“I would love to have dinner with you,” he hurriedly accepted the proposal before Jensen could change his mind. “Is he coming with us?” Jared asked, indicating his head in the direction of the third member of Jensen’s party who was still tarrying around.  
  
“Stephen will not be joining us. He has other matters to attend to.” Jensen nodded at Stephen, who frowned disapprovingly at him, before disappearing into the trees.  
  
“Shall we?” Jensen asked, before he turned on his heels and purposefully walked away.  
  
Jared followed quickly behind Jensen who hurriedly weaved his way across the city: down deserted alleyways, across empty streets, avoiding the rush of traffic and people as the normal members of society hastily sped to their mundane jobs. Jensen skulked in the shadows and moved with a graceful agility that had Jared nearly falling behind, practically running to keep up and almost losing sight of Jensen multiple times.  
  
They finally came to a stop in an alley that looked just like any other the city had to offer; dark, musty, filled to the brim with trash and yesterday’s leftovers, except for a small trail for foot traffic down the middle. The alley led to nowhere, but a rusty fence and more trash. The buildings were nothing special in particular. Just like any other, they were tall, dark, intimidating and covered in gang graffiti.  
  
If Jensen hadn’t of pointed it out, Jared would have missed the door. In the darkened alley, it was nearly impossible to tell it was even there at all. It blended seamlessly into the wall, the only indicator of its existence was a single, small doorknob that Jensen reached out to turn. The door creaked open on unused hinges uncovering a set of steep, shadowy stairs that led only to darkness.  
  
Tentatively, he followed Jensen up the rickety stairs whose wood groaned under their weight. His trepidation grew the higher they climbed until they were standing on a landing so dark, he couldn’t see the walls around him. This didn’t seem to bother Jensen, but Jared couldn’t help wondering what exactly was hiding behind the shadows and if this was something he was going to regret doing later. “Ready?” the older teen asked. Jared nodded, even though the other teen couldn’t see him. He latched onto Jensen’s arm when he heard another knob turn, and another old door creak open on unsteady hinges before suddenly he was blinded by a bright, white light.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, and then rapidly blinked them, trying to adjust to the new lighting. When finally his eyes focused, the sight that greeted him was beyond his wildest imaginations. Not even in his dreams could he have ever thought up something as beautiful and lavish as this.  
  
The door opened up to a large hallway, with ceilings so high he could barely see them. The marbled walls sparkled with golden flecks. Paintings of proud and regal men and women and mirrors taller than Jared lined the walls, punctuated by the occasional antique furniture standing between the art, stiff and mighty against the wall.  
  
Jensen turned sharply to the left and walked down the hall so quickly that Jared, still reeling from the shock, didn’t have time to take it all in. There was too much for his senses to properly adjust to; too many paintings with intricate details, and handmade furniture, finely crafted with the utmost care and love, and was that real gold on the walls?  
  
Jared didn’t belong here. That much was obvious, but he was surprised Jensen, in his worn leather jacket and jeans, did. At least, that is what he thought, until Jensen led him into a side room. It was a very large room as intricately designed and decorated as the hallway. There was a large sofa in the main room and a row of sinks and mirrors. He realized, by peaking around the corner, that this was indeed a bathroom. A very fancy bathroom, but a bathroom nonetheless.  
  
“Go wash up and put this on,” Jensen commanded and handed him a zippered garment bag. Still in awe, he took the bag and let himself be ushered into a tiny room past the bathrooms. It was a shower. A shower with warm water, he realized when he turned on the spray, a luxury Jared was rarely awarded.  
  
He undressed quickly and jumped in, reveling under the hot spray. Jared couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a hot shower, if he ever had. At the house, he got 5 minutes every day to shower under water that was colder than an ice cube with communal soap that had God knows whose pubic hair stuck to it. Expensive shampoo and lavish body wash was provided to him here and he took his time scrubbing himself clean of all the filth he’d accumulated during his time as a prostitute. _I could get use to this,_ he thought, _I really fucking could._  
  
With steam filling the whole room and the hot spray easing the tension in his muscles, Jared was loathe to leave the only comfort he’d experienced in more than a year, but was eager to return to his companion. Reluctantly, he turned the shower off, and quickly dressed in clothes that fit him perfectly: a neatly pressed, button down, light blue shirt, black slacks, shiny black loafers and a tie he didn’t know how to put on. By the time he returned to the bathroom, Jensen was already waiting for him, freshly showered and dressed similarly.  
  
Jensen looked…delicious in his blood red button down shirt and black tie. Jared wanted to tear his shirt from rippling muscles and taste the drops of liquid running down his neck. He wanted to splay the ferocious leader beneath him, spread him open until all of Jensen’s secrets were his own and there was no barriers separating them. Just the two of them, alone, together; no past, no present except for the hard slide of their bodies moving together, and no future but the two of them. He licked his lips, watched as Jensen ran his fingers through his short hair and turned almost shy eyes towards Jared.  
  
Unable to control himself, he took a step forward until he was face to face with Jensen, so close their breath mingled and their chests touched. He could feel the beat of Jensen’s heart, the heat of his body and the light tremble in his limbs. Jensen’s green eyes were open, honest, and vulnerable as they looked up into Jared’s. He cupped the older teen’s face, ran his thumb gently over the scar under his eye and felt Jensen shiver at his touch. He leaned forward, lips ready, caught in a dream that couldn’t possibly be real, when…  
  
“Do you want me to help you with that tie?” Jensen asked, turning his head away from Jared just before their lips were about to meet. He let his hand fall from Jensen’s face, disappointed.  
  
“Sure,” he shrugged and let the older teen, with rough, calloused hands fix his tie around his neck. “Thanks,” he whispered, trying hard not to let his regret over another failed kiss color his voice.  
  
“You look amazing,” Jared settled for telling Jensen, rather than showing how he felt with a kiss. “I can’t believe how well these clothes fit,” he added and checked himself out in the row of mirrors.  
  
“I told them to expect us,” Jensen cryptically responded.  
  
He let Jensen silently lead them back into the hallway, Jared following uncomfortably behind, until they reached a pair of doors at the end as wide as the hallways and as tall as the ceiling. Care and infinite time had been put into carving these beautiful doors. It was a winery scene, he realized in the brief second he got to look at the carvings on the door. There were rows of grapes and workers plucking them from the vine. But that was all he caught a glimpse of before Jensen pushed the doors open. They caved easily under his heavy touch.  
  
“It’s a restaurant?” Jared hissed. He wasn’t upset, just surprised that this much time and money had been put into a restaurant. The room was as a big as a wedding hall with enough room to fit at least a hundred guests. There were chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and tables lit by candle, extravagant plants that Jared had never seen in his life lined the walls, the floors were made of marble, and fine china was laid on the tables. A copy of Monet’s Lilies sheathed one entire wall. For all Jared knew, maybe it was the original.  
  
“It is a restaurant now,” Jensen darkly responded. “It wasn’t always.” He looked around, as if he was taking in the décor for the first time as well. “This room as seen many horrors,” he whispered, shivering as if he felt a chill.  
  
There was something about this place that horrified Jensen, and yet something else entirely that brought him back. No attempts were made to further explain. Jared didn’t need to know.  
  
“The waiters are dressed better than us,” he whispered as he nervously tried to lighten the mood. He smiled at the few patrons who were giving him a dirty look because of his previous outburst.  
  
“But we make up for it in quality,” Jensen replied and nodded at the waiter, whom upon noticing who his guest was, urgently hurried out of the main hall and into the kitchen.  
  
“Jensen!” a booming voice echoed through the restaurant a few moments later. A large Italian man wearing a white chef’s hat and coat thundered across the room directly towards his man. Jared took a half step back and a half step closer to Jensen as the chef approached, who was just as tall as Jared, but as wide as bull, with huge meaty fists, and shoes that looked large enough to belong on a clown.  
  
The chef stood toe to toe with Jensen before loudly exclaiming “I knew you couldn’t resist coming back,” he boastfully boomed, clasping hands with Jensen. “It was the veal scaloppine wasn’t it? Or the bucatini all’amatriciana. Best in world. Better than they make it in Italy.”  
  
“I have never had better,” Jensen agreed, letting the eager man enthusiastically shake his hand.  
  
“Are you here for business, or pleasure?” he said and winked at Jared as he said the last word.  
  
“Jared is my date.” Jensen hooked their arms and shuffled him forward towards the monstrous man. His hand was engulfed by the chef’s in a warm, hearty handshake.  
  
“Pleasure, sir,” he stuttered as way of introduction. _God that was really stupid,_ he thought in mortification a second later not even realizing how it sounded considering the man's previous question and definitely not meaning it _that_ way. _I can’t believe I said that._  
  
“Dante Borrello at your service,” he said. “Any friend of Jensen is always welcome here.”  
  
Borrello waved over a server, who stood prim and proper before them with perfect posture that Jared could never hope to achieve. “Give these two our finest table and whatever they want, no charge.”  
  
They were seated at a small private table, with a large plotted plant looming to the left of the table, obscuring their view of the room and casting them in shadows.  
  
Jared took one look at the menu and he was instantly lost. “It’s in Italian.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
Jared could only assume the look on his face was as pathetic as he felt.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Jensen reassured. “Dante will most likely bring us one of everything.”  
  
Several minutes later, Jensen proved to be right as Dante brought an entire platter of various appetizers. “I hate to interrupt your date,” the man sheepishly interceded, “but my brother wishes to speak with you now. He says it is urgent,” the chef hurriedly added before Jensen could respond. “He is over there,” he pointed to the opposite side of the restaurant where a man as equally large as Dante was seated, surrounded by four men in expensive suits.  
  
“Then I will speak with him.”  
  
“I will keep your date company,” Dante jovially exclaimed and clapped Jared so hard on the shoulder that his face almost hit his plate.  
  
Jared tried very hard not to slide down in his seat as the very large man loomed over him. “You are dining with greatness,” Borrello told him as they both watched Jensen walk away, Jared with trepidation in his heart. People were never as they first appeared, a lesson he learned young. Never trust anyone on first impressions, a rule he’d broken with Jensen, but wasn’t willing to do again. “That man is a Saint.”  
  
Jared gazed up at him, but didn’t know what to say. Something on his face, though, must have encouraged Borrello to continue. “He gave me this restaurant. Told me to turn it from the horrible place it was to something beautiful. And I did, right?”  
  
Jarred nodded, seemingly urging the man to continue.  
  
“It’s hard to erase a past like this place has, but I did it. All thanks to Jensen. I owe it all to him; my life, my family. There’s a good heart beating in that one, even if it is a little bit disfigured.”  
  
“Dante,” Jensen suddenly reappeared, startling the both of them. “If your brother wishes to speak to me again, please tell him I am free to negotiate at a more reasonable time, but for now I wish for privacy.”  
  
“Understood,” Dante sagely agreed as if he had been given a very important task. “Eat, eat, before the food gets cold,” he encouraged. “I will bring you your meals soon.”  
  
“But we haven’t ordered yet,” he whispered to Jensen when the chef was out of earshot. He may not have been to many restaurants in his life, but Jared’s pretty sure this isn’t how it usually goes.  
  
“He will bring us a very large selection of the best his restaurant has to offer.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Dante feels as if he owes me,” Jensen sighed, answering his unasked question. “Certain people held a certain leverage over him, forcing him to do their dirty deeds. These certain people asked him to kill his own brother. I caught wind and intervened. I got lucky, right time, right place, right circumstances, but Dante feels as if he is in my debt because of it.”  
  
“But you gave him this restaurant.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because it could not stand as what it once was, and Dante was the perfect person to change that. Dante is a good man, even if his brother is not.”  
  
“And his brother? Who is he? Why would someone want him dead?"  
  
“See Dante’s brother over there, the man in the grey suit? That is Dominic Borrello, mob boss and head of the United Arms.”  
  
Jared had never felt more like an ant than he did in that moment. He was a poor man dressed in a rich man's clothes, but still a lowly prostitute underneath it all that got fucked by anyone willing to pay, but still somehow caught the eye of a notorious criminal. And now, in one short day he’d met three of the most powerful people in the city, two of which actually wanted to talk to him. No one had even cared before today that he was alive and now here he was in a fancy upscale restaurant in clothes that were not his own, eating the most delicious food he’d ever tasted in his short life. He’d never felt so small and insignificant before. Jared was a nobody, and something about today just didn't sit right with him.  
  
“You guys have some sort of deal?” he asked to quell his uneasiness.  
  
“We do,” Jensen said. “If they are making you uncomfortable, we can leave.”  
  
“No,” Jared replied, determined to tough it out. “It’s okay.”  
  
He was saved from having to say anything further, by the timely arrival of Dante who brought another platter full of various entrées, commiserating again upon the idea “anything for Jensen.” The chef truly did think Jensen was a hero.  
  
“They were wrong about you,” Jared blurts out, remembering what Dante told him.  
  
Jensen inclined his head in a gesture of curiosity, but did not say anything in response.  
  
“I’ve heard a lot of crazy rumors about you on the streets,” Jared elaborates. “Someone told me you eat babies for breakfast,” he adds, but does not tell him it was Kellin that told him this.  
  
“Trust me, the babies are safe,” he deadpanned, and if Jared wasn’t so sure that Jensen was just joking, it would have been super creepy.  
  
“I also heard you cut off the head of the former Ghost Brigade leader and then kept it,” Jared laughs quietly.  
  
Jensen is silent for a moment, and then quietly he replies, “I did.” Jared’s smile slides off his face and instantly he sobers. "I was not the one who struck the fatal blow, but I did cut off his head and kept it for a short while." For the first time in their short relationship, Jared finds himself the one speechless.  
  
“This bothers you,” Jensen stated matter of fact and tilted his head in curiosity again.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared answered and he meant it. He really _didn’t_ know. “Why did you do it?”  
  
“It served a purpose,” he said thoughtfully. “A means to an end.”  
  
“Oh,” Jared said and looked down at his plate. Jared had forgotten there was a part of Jensen he did not know. Jensen had made it easy to forget.  
  
“He deserved it,” Jensen said in soft, sad voice. “Many good things, for a great deal of people, resulted from his death. Remember Maria? The owner of this restaurant? They owe their happiness to his demise.”  
  
“But why keep the head?” Jared questioned.  
  
“A reminder,” he shrugged, but did not attempt to elaborate.  
  
 _Certifiably insane,_ they’d said, _a cold blooded killer._ They’d warned him to stay away and instead he chose to turn the other cheek. That was longer an option. This was his first real glimpse of the man behind the mask, the insanity beneath the calm exterior. But Jared could understand. Sometimes you had to do what you never thought you could just to survive. Sometimes you were forced to do cruel and awful, or dirty and disgusting things just to make it to the next day. Different paths and different circumstances had led them to different choices and different places, but in the end they really weren’t that different. Jensen was damaged, just like him, and sometimes you couldn’t heal the festering wounds left behind. The damage just couldn’t be fixed. All he could do was swim with the riptide, ride the storm until he hit the eye.  
  
It wasn’t his place to judge Jensen, not on this. He didn’t know the reasons why, and maybe under the same circumstances, Jared would have done the same thing. You can never really know what you would do in certain situations, until it actually happens. And then you can really only hope for the best. He was willing, for the moment, to trust Jensen’s decision and wait until the other teen felt comfortable enough to tell him the details.  
  
Jensen’s silence said more than his words: _Live with it or turn away now._ Jensen had laid the cards out on the table and now was giving Jared the chance to fold if he so desired. But Jared wasn’t so sure he wanted that. He knew what he was getting into when he started this and he could live with it, for now. “Okay,” he told Jensen, knowing he would understand. “Okay.”  
  
Jensen nodded gratefully. The conversation was over. Jensen trusted him with the truth, and Jared accepted it.  
They spent the rest of the meal in relative quiet, only making small talk here and there, until Jensen reluctantly announced he had to go.  
  
“Your friends are being taken care of,” Jensen disclosed as they were leaving the restaurant. “I sent Stephen to make sure they get the best care.”  
  
“Let me guess, you know a doctor who owes you?” Jared joked.  
  
“I do,” Jensen said dryly, failing to notice the humor. “Chad and Chris have also informed your boss that if any harm is to befall them again, or if he tries anymore dirty tricks it would be a most unwise decision on his part and he will live to regret it.”  
  
He steered them back into the bathroom where they showered earlier. Jared’s old clothes were waiting for him, recently laundered and neatly folded, but still the shabby pieces of crap he’d lifted from the thrift store not so long ago.  
  
“You can keep those,” Jensen pointed to the clothes in the garment bag after Jared had changed back into his street clothes.  
  
He smoothed the wrinkles out of the top and placed the tie neatly on the hanger. “They don’t belong to someone like me.”  
  
Jensen cast him a knowing sideways glance and nodded his head in understanding. Some things you just couldn’t bring with you to the future, if Jensen was anything like him, then he understand that. Some things you just couldn’t have, no matter how much you wanted them.  
  
“Beside, I’d be robbed the second I stepped foot on the Westside.”  
  
“No you wouldn’t,” Jensen confidently replied, but made no further attempt to convince Jared to keep the clothes. “I’ll keep them for you, for when we return.”  
  
Jared liked the idea of that. It almost sounded like a promise for more.  
  
Jensen walked him out, but then Jared was forced to say goodbye to the only person he really cared about, knowing none of this was really all that fair, but hoping this was his chance for a better tomorrow.


	12. One By One, They Go Marching On

**Warnings (Chapter Specific):** Violence, implied/referenced rape, underage prostitution, non-graphic sex with a minor  
 ****

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own nor do I know Jared, Jensen or any other recognizable person. They belong to themselves and this never happened. Also, I am not making any money from this. The OMCs, the plot and the world they live in are, however, all mine.  
 ****

 **AN:** This is kind of a dark fic. The opinions of some of my more evil characters, are not my own, they are evil and this is fiction. Also, I messed around with everyone's ages, so Jared is around 16, Jensen 17, and Vic and Kellin are closer to 18

***

**CHAPTER TWELVE: ONE BY ONE, THEY GO MARCHING ON**

Jared didn’t know why he expected things to look up after his date with Jensen at the fancy restaurant, but they didn’t. He was, after all, still just a prostitute, even if for just a brief moment he had a glimpse of something better. Not really sure what else to do, he returned to haunt his corner for the night. There was no on there but him.  
  
It was terrible being all alone. The wind rattled down the empty alley, the shadows glided like wraiths across the moonlight, and the wind felt like fingers gripping at his skin. Jared knew he had someone very powerful watching his back, but Jensen’s protection could not save him from everything.  
  
As the night wore on, he wondered what happened to Vic and Kellin. Jensen said he sent someone to make sure they were taken care of, but Jared didn’t even know if Kellin was still alive. Logically speaking, it wasn’t his fault that his pimp nearly beat Kellin to death (or maybe he did) or that his pimp and Jake took turns raping Vic while Jared watched. But he couldn't make himself believe he was not to blame. The guilt punched him in the solar plexus, leaving him breathless and weary.  
  
Why was life so unfair?  
  
Shouting down the street startled him. He dived for the cover of the alley and peeked around the corner. Four or five guys surrounded some poor, unlucky bastard and decided to beat the shit out of him. Jared couldn’t see much under the cover of darkness, but he could tell it didn’t look good for the guy on the ground being attacked.  
.  
“You should have stuck with us, fresa,” one of the men said as he pulled a gun on the guy on the ground.  
  
“You killed my sister,” the lone man spat at the group with all the venom of a rattlesnake despite his situation.  
  
“Who said she’s dead? I’m sure she’s lovin' the grease from some old, wrinkly cock,” the man with the gun mocked. The group laughed with him.  
  
“They found her body washed up on the bay. Tell me that’s okay!”  
  
The guy with the gun shrugged. “Guess her new master got bored.”  
  
“You sick fuck,” the guy on the ground raged. He grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at the gunman.  
  
The gunman laughed as he sidestepped the rock. “You should be happy,” the gunman pompously said. “You get to see your sister again.” He smirked as he pulled the trigger.  
  
Jared threw himself back into the alley so quickly he tripped, an empty can of soda scattering to the street as he hit the ground hard.  
  
“Go check what that was,” he heard the gunman say.  
  
A face peered into the alleyway as Jared scampered back until his back hit the wall.  
  
“It’s _the_ prostitute,” the man called back to the group.  
  
“ _The_ prostitute?” the voice of the gunman asked.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He heard footsteps approach and suppressed a whimper. The gunman appeared, the moonlight at his back, shrouding his face in darkness. Jared couldn’t tell who he was, or what group he belonged to under the dim light. He placed his gun back in his pants and walked toward Jared. “Give Jensen a message for me,” the gunman said and he stared down at Jared. “Tell him enjoy the freedom. Because it’s not going to last.”  
  
Jared let himself breath after the gang walked away and silence reigned over his little corner once more. It took a few more minutes before he could will his shaking legs to move. When he peered around the corner, the body was still there, limbs askew, slowly cooling in the night air. He turned and walked in the other direction before he could retch. He’d seen dead bodies before, but it wasn’t something one got used to.  
  
The sun was starting to crest over the horizon, it was nearly time to leave anyways. He figured if he headed back to the house now, no one else would get hurt because of him.  
  
Two of the others were getting back to the house at the same time as him. They stared at Jared, a mixture of awe and shock splaying across their face.  
  
“What?” he asked, giving himself a once over in case he looked weird. They jumped out of their skin and bumped into each other as they fled from him.  
  
Jared was not so sure he wanted to go in the house anymore, but he sucked it up. The main room was empty. Where Kellin lay the day before, the blood, turned dark brown and sticky, laid over various other nasty stains of similar origins. No one had cleaned it yet. That was odd, usually their pimp forced someone to clean it right away. The couch was in a similar state, dark brown stains splattered across the faded yellow fabric, untouched.  
  
He heard whimpering from the adjoining room, or what Jared thought was supposed to be the kitchen. The room stood mostly unused. What cupboards were there stood crooked against the wall and didn’t look like they could hold any weight. There were no working appliances either, except for a fridge. The freezer was the only thing stocked in the whole place, filled to the brim with ice for the various aches and pains suffered from being a prostitute. Jake sat in front of the fridge holding a bag of ice to his bruised and swollen jaw. From the way his jaw oddly hung, Jared knew that ice wasn’t going to do much. Jake took one look at him and scrambled away.  
  
Jared backed straight out of the room and ran for the stairs. Even in his haste, he didn’t miss the trail of fresh blood that led to his pimp’s office.  
  
He grabbed one of the other teens in the house, who was just coming in the front door. “What happened yesterday?” he asked the kid whose name he did not know.  
  
“Uh, um,” the kid looked terrified and Jared felt kind of terrible.  
  
“No one is going to hurt you, okay? Please just tell me.”  
  
“Well these two guys and this girl came here yesterday morning and they got in a shouting match with our pimp. Then our pimp pulled a gun on them and one of the guys and the girl roughed him up pretty bad. Then Jake tried to hit the girl and… I’m pretty sure they broke his jaw.” The kid whispered the last part like he was sharing juicy gossip with a friend, but he didn’t look particularly sad about the outcome. Jared didn’t feel bad for Jake either. Karma was a bitch.  
  
“Thanks,” he said and wandered into his room. He didn’t expect Vic and Kellin to be there, but he didn’t expect it to feel so empty either. The only comfort he had was the copy of Hamlet that Jensen gave him.  
  
**  
It was weird being in the house. Everyone gave him a wide berth like just looking at him would get them beaten up. He hadn’t seen his pimp since the incident, and Vic and Kellin had not returned either. He tried to find out if they were okay, where they went, and whether or not Kellin was even still alive, but none of the other prostitutes in the house knew what happened to them. When Jensen showed up, Jared would ask him, but he didn’t know how long it would be before he saw him again.  
  
It was too weird being in the house alone, so more often than not he took to the streets, walking around aimlessly. People who knew who he was and what he meant to Jensen stared at him as they passed by, but gave him so much space he felt like Patient Zero in the Zombie apocalypse. Those who didn’t know him, ignored him, like he didn’t even exist.  
  
It was while he was wandering through town that he ran into Samantha and Jeff again. They were near Artist’s Alley which was unusual for them. They tended to stick closer to areas where the homeless and runaway teens nested. This place was not one of them.  
  
He was on his way to see Maria, the generous lady who gave him free food on one of his dates with Jensen, in search of a little company that would actually talk to him, when Sam flagged him down.  
  
“Jared, it is so good to see you,” Samantha said. Her hands reached out, probably to hug him, but she thought better of it and let them fall to her side instead. Jared hoped she didn’t see him flinch. “Are you here for a sandwich?”  
  
He wasn’t, but he’d take free food when he could get it, especially when he never knew where his next meal would come from.  
  
“Thanks,” he said and pocketed the sandwich for later. “What are you guys doing in his part of town?”  
  
Sam frowned as Jeff sighed and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Things have gotten too violent in our usual spots,” Jeff said.  
“We’re being run out by gang fights wherever we go. I got shot,” Jeff said pointing to a bandage on his left arm. “I was lucky. It’s just a graze, but they clearly don’t want us there.”  
  
“But there’s a truce between the three most powerful gangs in town. How can that be?” he blurted out. A second too late he realized maybe he shouldn’t have divulged that information. He didn’t know how much Jensen wanted others to know, but Sam and Jeff didn’t look surprised by the information.  
  
“I thought that was the case,” Jeff said. “Ever since Jensen and his crew took over the Ghost Brigade the streets have been awful quiet.”  
  
“It must be the Regulators,” Sam quietly said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The rumors must be true.”  
  
“That’s the new gang you guys were talking about, right?” Jared asked. He thought he remembered them mentioning them once. It was rare that a new gang would be able to establish dominance in this town, though. If the Street Warriors or United Arms didn’t take them out first, then the Ghost Brigade, the gang that usually liked to sit quietly in the background, enforced their power and squashed them like a bug. Even gangs with established power and prestige had eventually been demolished by the three current powers. If what Sam said was true, this was the first time a new gang had managed to gain dominance. That was a terrifying thought.  
  
“Yes,” Jeff answered his question. “It’s hard to tell for sure, because they have no mark, but it’s the perfect explanation.” Sam seemed to shudder in his arms. Jeff held her tighter. “Have you heard anything?”  
  
“No, I haven’t,” he said, not exactly surprised they asked him. His involvement with the Ghost Brigade wasn’t exactly a secret.  
  
“Oh,” Sam said and fell silent.  
  
“Well, could you pass the word around that we’re here if anyone needs us. We still want to help.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Jared said. Even if people were avoiding him, he would certainly try, or at least get one of the other prostitutes at the house to do it. Jared may have been wary of them at first, but the homeless in this town needed Sam and Jeff, and the world needed more people like them. He just hoped the Regulators didn’t push them too far away.  
  
**  
  
It had been almost a week since he last saw Jensen, Vic or Kellin, when a sleek, black Mercedes pulled to a stop in front of him on a Saturday night. Jared’s spine fell from his body leaving him feeling boneless and afraid when the Mayor rolled down the window and told him to get in. He just saw the Mayor Wednesday. He never came on any other day except Wednesday.  
  
“Get in,” the Mayor repeated in a low growl. Jared forced his feet to move.  
  
“Oh God, I needed this,” the Mayor said as he thrust into Jared. He didn’t even wait for Jared to get naked, like usual, just pushed him against the door and took him right there. “This is all your fault,” he groaned as he stilled and came in his ass.  
  
The Mayor grabbed his wrist and pushed him down on the bed. “Take everything off,” he ordered.  
  
With shaking fingers, Jared did as he was order. The Mayor had never shown such wanton interest before and it terrified him a little.  
  
“I want to see you cry,” the Mayor said as he pushed Jared’s knees to his chest and slapped him on the ass. He yelped in the response, and the Mayor slapped his ass again. “I don’t want to hear you cry, I want to see tears,” he demanded, lining himself up and pushing himself in with more restraint than he’s ever shown before. After a particularly brutal series of thrusts, Jared didn’t have to fake his tears.  
  
“Yes,” the Mayor moaned. “Just like that.” He gasped and groaned as he did what he wanted with Jared’s body before he was coming again.  
  
The next thing he knew he was being shoved naked out the motel door, his clothes tossed after him. He left wondering _what the fuck just happened,_ as he was forced to walk back to his corner.  
  
He walked slowly, ignoring the ache in his backside as he shuffled forward when a familiar voice stopped him. It was lowered in a whisper, but it still carried down the alley towards him. The scary dude’s voice still haunted his nightmares. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize it.  
  
He looked down the alley to find Chris talking to the last person Jared thought would be seen associating with a gang member. It was the police chief, Jim Beaver. Jared had seen him occasionally in the newspapers and a couple of times on the tv when his mother remembered to pay the cable bill.  
  
Chris caught sight of him and turned both himself and the police chief around so their backs were to him. They lowered their voices so Jared couldn’t hear.  
  
Jared was not sure why he stuck around when it was clear he was not wanted. Maybe he was hoping Jensen would appear and whisk him away on another magical date. But really he just wanted to know how Jensen was, and if he had any news on his friends.

  
Chris stomped down the alley like a bull a few minutes later and pinned Jared against the wall. “You can’t tell anyone what you just saw.”  
  
“Um, not even Jensen?” he asked, because apparently he had a death wish.  
  
“Jensen knows,” Chris scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, but Jensen.”  
  
He nodded his head, but was too scared to ask why. “U-um,” he stuttered as Chris turned to leave. “I have a message for Jensen,” he said, hopping to stop Chris from leaving, though he was not entirely sure of his own motives yet.  
  
“As if you have anything to say that’s important.”  
  
“It’s not from me,” he quietly said. Chris finally stopped and actually looked at him.  
  
“Well,” he said, pinning Jared to the wall again even though he was clearly much taller than the scary dude.  
  
“T-there were these guys, and they killed this other guy near my corner. They saw me and said to tell Jensen to enjoy his freedom because it wouldn’t last.”  
  
There was something more than anger on Chris’ face. It looked a lot like fear.  
  
“What did he mean?” Jared asked. "Is Jensen okay?" Chris fled faster than Jared could stop him this time. He didn’t really expect an answer, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hoping for one.  
  
When he finally got back to his corner, Misha was standing there. For the first time in days, Jared felt a little flicker of happiness ignite in his chest.  
  
“Jared,” he exclaimed as he lit his blunt. “Fancy seeing you here.”  
  
As if Misha didn’t know this was his corner. He just raised his eyebrow at the mysterious teen in answer. Misha shrugged in response, but it wasn't like Jared expected an answer from him either.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
“You know, same old, same old,” Misha said with a smile and draped his arm around Jared’s shoulders. Jared did not, in fact, know, because who the Hell knew what Misha actually got up to on a regular basis.  
  
“It’s good to see you,” Jared said, and plopped down the dirty ground. “Have you heard anything about Vic and Kellin?” Misha knew everything, he had to have some sort of news.  
  
“They’re gonna be just fine. They actually just returned to the house.”  
  
“Really?” That was both a relief and utterly nerve wracking. He was glad to know his friends were okay, but he wasn’t so sure of what kind of welcome he would get when he saw the two of them again.  
  
“Let’s get out of here,” Misha said, offering him a hand up.  
  
“Okay, where too?”  
  
“Dancing,” Misha dramatically said, throwing his hand up in the air, his lit blunt dangling from his fingers, and striking a ridiculous pose.  
  
“That sounds like a horrible idea,” Jared laughed. “I can't dance.”  
  
“I’m awesome at everything. I’ll teach you,” Misha said so seriously, Jared couldn’t help, but laugh. He didn’t deny Misha’s claim, though. He was pretty sure there was nothing Misha couldn’t do.  
  
After a life time of abuse, what happened was nearly the straw that broke Jared. A van screeched to a halt next to them and three men jumped out of it. One Jared recognized. It was the gunman who shot that guy the other day. In the light of day, Jared could see the gun tattooed to his arm, the former symbol of the Ghost Brigade. He thought the second guy looked familiar, a teen not much older than him. He was pretty sure this guy used to work for his pimp and was one of the prostitutes that disappeared one day. He didn’t get a good look at the third guy, who twisted Misha’s arm behind his back and dragged him to the van with the other two.  
  
Jared couldn’t just let them drag Misha away. "Misha!" he cried, as he threw himself at the former prostitute, tackling him to the ground, and kicked the gunman in the leg. Misha struggled valiantly, but ultimately fruitlessly as he was pulled into the van. The gunman grabbed Jared by the hair and pulled him to his feet.  
  
“It’s the prostitute,” the gunman laughed while the other guy punched Jared in the gut. He doubled over, but refused to fall to his knees, choosing instead to elbow the gunman in the chest.  
  
“You little shit,” the gunman spat, pulling his gun from his pants and pointing it at Jared’s face.  
  
The former prostitute ran past him, knocking Jared to the ground, and jumped in the van. A gunshot rang through the street. Jared threw his arms up to protect his face in an automated response. He heard a thud and peeked out behind his hands to see the gunman lying on the ground, a bullet hole in his head.  
  
The van hurtled away, Misha trapped within, and though bullets rained down upon it, they could not stop it from escaping.  
  
 _Jensen,_ he frantically thought and whipped around to find none other than Lauren Cohan, not the one he hoped to see.  
  
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked in her saccharine voice, offering Jared a hand up. He did not take it. “I guess that’s fair,” she said, but continued to smile at him.  
  
Jared rose and dusted himself off. Though he towered over the girl, he knew she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. If Chad didn’t trust her, he shouldn’t either.  
  
 _But she saved you,_ a tiny voice in the back of his head said. He destroyed the thought before it could take precedence in his thoughts.  
  
“I just want to help,” she insisted. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save your friend.”  
  
“Thank you for trying,” he mumbled and looked away. Jensen would show up any minute now, right? Sweep him off his feet and take him away, right?  
  
“You know my offer still stands. You can still join up,” she said, her perfect boobs bouncing as she placed her hands on her hips. “The Street Warriors have a lot to offer. You could rise through the ranks quickly.”  
  
“I…” he started, but she was quick to interrupt.  
  
“Look Jared, I’m gonna be straight with you. Jensen is just using you. But I can take care of you,” she purred, sidling up next to him, her finger running down his bicep. You’ll never have to worry about anything again.”  
  
“I-I can’t,” he said, but even to his own ears he sounded unsure.  
  
“My number,” she said, handing him a card. “In case you change your mind.”  
  
 _Jensen never offered me his number,_ he thought as he took the proffered card. He refused to believe Lauren, though. What could Jensen possibly be using him for? He was just a lowly prostitute worth absolutely nothing to no one.  
  
But Lauren was here right now, wasn’t she? Lauren saved his life, and Jensen was nowhere in sight. Why hadn’t Jensen come to see him in days? Why wasn’t he here now?  
  
“Think about it,” she said as Jared placed the card in his pocket. But Jared already knew the answer. He would wait for Jensen. He believed in him and knew he would come back for him. Hopefully.  
  
Jensen did show up a few days later, but not with the news Jared wanted to hear.


End file.
